Magic of the Deep
by mangoaddict
Summary: AU, during LWW. What if Edmund hadn't been reunited with his siblings? The Witch's power can not be truly broken, not while only three siblings sit on the thrones at Cair Paravel. But is the fourth out there somewhere?
1. Here Comes the Sun

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: AU, during LWW. What if Edmund hadn't been reunited with his siblings?

* * *

Prologue: Here Comes the Sun

_Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,  
and I say it's all right  
It's all right_

_-- The Beatles 'Here Comes the Sun'_

_The White Witch's Castle…_

Edmund watched as the Witch dragged the faun out of the ice prison. His heart ached with regret, and try and he might, he couldn't quite push the sight of the faun's face, the anger, the pain of betrayal, the loathing, from his mind. He slumped back against the cold wall, tears pricking at his eyes. He had been a fool to trust this Witch, to believe that she was truly good. Oh, he had been such a fool.

And yet, despite all that, another feeling battled for a place in his heart. A cold and vindictive emotion. Yes, he wanted his siblings' forgiveness, but that wasn't enough. He wanted to _enjoy_ betraying them as well. How could he explain the way he felt around them, the pain that pierced his heart every time he was compared to Peter, every time he was lectured by Susan, every time he was told to be nice to darling Lucy? How could he make them understand that when he was around them, he never felt good enough? And that for one brief moment, the White Witch had made him feel important?

How could he explain that even if she was evil, she had given him the one thing he had always wanted, the one thing they had never been able to give?

Edmund sighed and shook his head. It didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered, because his siblings would never trust him again. They would look at him with disgust and fury, and they would silently wonder, over and over, how he could do this to them.

He paused suddenly, paling as he heard the sound of footsteps on the hall outside his cell. He held his breath, praying that it was not the Witch, that it was just a guard coming by to make sure he hadn't escaped.

But luck was not with him that night.

The Witch was accompanied by an ogre. She gestured imperiously to her servant, and Ginarrbrik shoved the cell door open. He marched over to Edmund and snapped the chains that held him to the wall. Grabbing Edmund roughly by the collar of his shirt, he pulled the boy to his feet and pushed him towards the exit.

"Come, young Prince," the Witch said softly, her quiet voice laced with mocking. "It is time we took you to your family."

Edmund felt a chill run up his spine at her words, but he stumbled obediently after her through the ice palace to the courtyard. The Witch swept quickly in front of him and settled herself on her sleigh, wrapping her furs tightly around her pale skin. She watched impassively as Edmund stopped in front of the newest statue in her courtyard and stared at Tumnus' stone face in horror. "When you are ready, Son of Adam," she smirked at last, and Edmund turned to face her. Something hit him from behind, and he realized that Ginarrbrik had thrust him forward. He collapsed, exhausted, onto the floor of the sleigh, pain shooting up his side, indicating how hurt he truly was. Then the ogre leapt to his platform in the front and whipped the Reindeer mercilessly. The Animals jumped forward, and the sleigh lurched after them.

* * *

_The Western Wood, same day…_

The Witch's sleigh suddenly jerked to the side as a thin piece of frozen leather from one of the reindeer's tethers snapped in two. The reindeer, finding itself suddenly free, reared up on its hind legs, spun around, and smashed its antlers into the front of the sleigh, causing it to tip precariously to one side, and Edmund came rolling out onto the snow.

The other reindeer began to dance nervously, pulling at their own tethers in the hopes of breaking free. Ginarbrrik snarled, pulling back his whip, and attacking the freed reindeer. The Witch was forced to hold tight to the sleigh to keep from falling out as it was jolted back and forth, but she freed one hand and reached for her magic wand. Lifting it in the air, she pointed it at the freed reindeer, and a moment later he was turned to stone where he stood, a great statue reared back on its hind legs, antlers forward and ready to attack.

At the sight of their fallen comrade, the other reindeer's instantly stopped the fight, turning docile and harmless once more. Their fear was evident in their eyes as they swung their great heads slowly back and forth, praying silently that they would not be next.

Ginarbrrik jumped from the sleigh and pulled out his knife. Slicing through the broken tether, he threw the worn leather carelessly to the ground. Then he undid the remaining reins and refashioned the tethers so that the weight of the sleigh was equally divided among the reindeer. As he worked, he glanced down at the slush under his feet. If the snow continued to melt this quickly, it would not be long before the runners of the sleigh would get caught in the mud, and then the sleigh would be useless.

The Witch watched Ginarbrrik's progress with satisfaction, then turned to the spot where Edmund had fallen, and her eyes narrowed in anger.

Edmund was gone.

"Fool!" she hissed. "Does he really think he can escape us?" She stared at the tracks in the snow, the footprints that clearly marked the path Edmund had taken. She turned to Ginarbrrik and ordered, "Follow those tracks."

Ginarbrrik jumped back into the sleigh and lashed at the reindeer. They took off instantly, leaving their stone friend behind as they pressed deep into the woods. But soon the trees grew too thickly together for the sleigh to pass through, and the ogre was forced to bring the sleigh to a stop. He glanced back at the Witch, waiting for her decision.

"Well, the Son of Adam is clever," the Witch mused, her voice low and shaking with barely constrained fury. "But if he thinks he can lose me in this forest…"

She stepped out of the sleigh and stood on the snow for a moment, weighing her options. She didn't know where Aslan's camp was, the boy had not revealed that to her. But she was confident that her Wolves would be able to follow the children and either kill them, or at least discover the location of Aslan's army. Edmund was her leverage, her bait, and she needed him back.

"Cut the reindeer free and leave the sleigh," she ordered at last. They would proceed on foot.

* * *

_The Mountains beyond the Western Wood, same day…_

Edmund looked around warily. The minute he had fallen from the sleigh, he had jumped to his feet. Realizing that the Witch was otherwise occupied at the time, he had turned and dashed into the trees. It was a reckless move on his part, he knew that, but he felt that he needed to at least _try_ to escape. Weaving his way through the forest, he had headed towards the areas where the trees were closer together, hoping it would prevent the sleigh from getting through.

He paused now, and shivered slightly against the wind. He was so tired, and so numb from pain and cold, it was hard just to continue walking. But every time he wanted to stop, he thought of the Witch, and his siblings lives in danger, and everyone he had betrayed, and he hurried on.

And then, quite suddenly, he was out of the woods. In front of him was a steep ravine that plummeted down, so far down he couldn't see the bottom. Behind him, the trees faded away into an ice wall that rose smooth and straight up towards the sky.

How long since he had left the Witch? It seemed like hours, although he knew it couldn't have been more than half and hour. Had she followed him? Was she close behind?

He couldn't go back, and the ravine in front of him prevented him from going forward, so he turned left and began his trek that way. He moved quickly, but his feet continually sank deeper and deeper into the thawing snow, making it difficult to walk. Once or twice he stumbled, and barely managed to catch himself before he rolled over the side of the cliff.

After a few moments, he paused and took a breath, leaning against the ice wall. He closed his eyes and felt the icy air rush into his lungs. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes again.

And bit back the urge to scream.

Standing in front of his was a large Wolf.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the Wolf said mockingly, snapping its jaws as it approached the terrified human. Edmund backed away until he was firmly pressed against the ice wall, and the Wolf continued advancing.

"So you're the human that the Witch captured?" he sneered. "Welcome to Narnia, little king." The Wolf was only a few feet away from him now, and Edmund could feel its hot breath. "The rest of my pack has gone after your siblings," the Wolf continued, watching Edmund closely, "but imagine my luck. Instead of having to chase the humans with them, one came and found me."

In the distance, Edmund heard the sudden howl of another Wolf. A few more howls joined that one, and the air was filled with the sound of approaching danger.

The Wolf turned and looked in that direction, before letting out its own howl. Then it turned back to Edmund and said jeeringly, "A few of us who did not accompany Maugrim are coming. They will be so pleased to see you."

And Edmund did the only thing he could think of. He turned and ran.

But the Wolf simply launched itself forward, pinning Edmund to the ground with its front paws and snarling at him. Edmund twisted, trying to break free, and managed to somehow throw the Wolf away from him. He pulled himself to his hands and knees just as the Wolf righted itself and growled. Acting on instinct, Edmund thrust his legs out, catching the Wolf directly in the chest. The Wolf howled again, this time in shock, and fell backward over the side of the cliff and out of sight.

Edmund stared in horror, realizing that he had just killed another living creature. His mouth opened in dismay, but no sound came out, and he sat there on his hands and knees in shock.

Then he heard the sound of Wolves not too far behind and remembered the Witch. He scrambled to his feet and raced along the side of the steep ravine. The half-thawed ice cracked under his feet as he ran, causing him to stumble several times. He would have slowed and run more carefully if he thought he could chance it, but behind him he heard the distinct howls of the Wolves. So he continued running until he thought his legs would no longer support him, and his lungs ached from lack of oxygen. The cold bit deep into his skin, slicing through to his bone, and he shivered uncontrollably as he ran.

Then, quite suddenly, he was brought up against a tall rocky cliff. Behind him, he could hear the Wolves getting closer, to his right was the steep raving, to his left the great ice wall. The path in front of him was blocked by the rising rocks, but he had no choice but to try and scale them.

He grabbed onto the first crevice in the rocks and pulled himself up. He stuck his feet into the cracks and small ledges, and frantically sought out another handhold. Hand over hand, foot over foot, he steadily climbed. Once of twice the rocks gave way and he would slide backwards, flailing his arms as he tried to grab onto anything that would support him.

The howls sounded right below him, and he chanced a look down.

The Wolves were at the foot of the cliff.

He was suddenly overcome with dizziness, and his hands slipped again. He stumbled and fell at an angle, towards the ravine on his right. Reaching out with one hand he caught the tiny jutting ledge of a rock, and felt the stone pierce his skin. The snow around his hand turned red with blood, and below him the Wolves waited for him to fall.

He tried to move his feet, but fear had him rooted to the spot. He shoved his other hand up, trying to find a handhold, but the surface was too smooth, too slippery. The bruises on his body began to ache with a throbbing intensity, and the wounds the Witch had inflicted reopened, spilling more red onto the snow.

The dizziness came again, this time with a pounding headache, and suddenly his grip on the rock came loose. He reached out, clawing frantically against the rocks, but his fingers couldn't find traction on the smooth ice. He fell, tumbling away from the Wolves, towards the great expanse of empty air over the deep ravine.

And then the ground had given way beneath him, and the floor of the ravine soared up towards him at a terrifyingly rapid pace. He was falling…

…falling…

…falling…


	2. Momentum

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: The story now jumps forward a few years after the Witch has been killed by Aslan, and Peter, Susan, and Lucy have been crowned rulers. But what happened in those in between years will be told in flashbacks included in the chapters.

Any characters that look familiar are probably from the movie, any characters that don't look familiar are of my own making.

Summary: What if Edmund hadn't been reunited with his siblings?

* * *

Chapter One: Momentum

_why am I walking barefoot  
upon this road with no one around?  
I close my eyes to this decision  
the night's like coffee to my tongue  
like waking up without a sound  
I map the words out  
maybe you will say them_

_--Vienna Teng, 'Momentum' _

_Three years later at Cair Paravel…_

The sun rose slowly over the distant horizon, casting golden rays of light on the land beneath. The hazy mountains, purple in the morning light, stood out against the fiery sky, and the blazing sun reflected off the smooth surface of the blue ocean.

The beauty of all this was lost on Peter.

He came here every morning to watch the sun rise, but he no longer saw the enchantment of the dawn. He paid little heed to the dancing waves of light that cascaded across the silver-mirror ocean. He found no pleasure in the gentle breeze that ruffled the leaves of the trees and whistled through the grass.

No, the beauty of Narnia no longer gave him pleasure like it had before.

He looked away from the rising sun and let his thoughts wander, as they often did, to the past.

_Peter pulled a few of the coats out of the wardrobe and handed two of them to his sisters. Lucy took hers with excitement and pulled over her shoulders, grinning broadly, her cheeks flushed red with the cold. Susan gratefully slipped into hers and looked around, eyes still wary with suspicion. They had wandered into some strange land, and she was not about to trust anyone or anything, regardless of what Lucy said about being here before._

_Peter held out the third coat to Edmund, and the dark haired boy took it with some distaste._

"_Hey, that's a girl's coat," Edmund protested, eyes narrowing angrily at the insult_

"_I know," Peter replied calmly, and the implied insult lingered in the air between them as he turned away and left his brother holding the coat. He surveyed the snowy landscape in front of them, watching as Lucy eagerly danced ahead of them, staring up at the trees. He bit back the urge to call out to Lucy, to tell her not to wander ahead. But Lucy had found this place and insisted that it was real, even when none of them believed her, and she deserved to have the freedom of leading them wherever she chose._

_He looked back at Edmund, who was wearing the heavy brown coat. There was a simmering anger in those dark eyes, something that unnerved him for a moment. But then he pushed it aside dismissively. What could Edmund possible do?_

The answer to that question had become so blatantly obvious not to long after the event, and Peter now would have given anything in the world to be able to take back his uncaring words. But he couldn't undo the past, couldn't ever know what might have been if he had only kept a better eye on his brother.

How long had it been since the Great War? How long had it been since he had last seen Edmund?

They had not given up hope. When Aslan had defeated the Witch and the three siblings had claimed their rightful place on the thrones of Cair Paravel, they had not given up hope. They had searched for Edmund for three long years, searched far and wide until they had scoured every bit of Narnia.

But each year passed, and there was still no sign of their wayward brother. And that hope had faded, become frail and weak, and after a time, Peter could no longer even remember the sound of his brother's voice.

What kind of king couldn't even protect his own brother?

"I'm sorry, Ed," he whispered to the cool morning air, knowing that the one person who needed to hear those words was already gone.

The echoing clip-clop of hooves on the balcony caused Peter to tear himself from his guilt-ridden thoughts and turn towards the approaching centaur. "Good morning, General," he greeted stiffly, a little annoyed at having been interrupted.

"Good morning, your Majesty," came the response. Oreius had not changed much since the war. He was still the same taciturn centaur with a flair for strategic planning and restless desire for fighting. But in the years of relative peace since the fall of the Witch, his relationship with the young High King had changed from that of a mere advisor and general to an actual friend.

And he could tell by the troubled look in Peter's eyes that the king had been thinking of the fourth monarch that was no longer there.

"What news brings you here so early in the morning?" Peter asked, leaning against the stone railing of the balcony.

"Nothing good," Oreius answered grimly. "There are more rumors from the Western Wood. A band of Fell Creatures has amassed. They are clearly forming an army."

Peter grimaced. "Have you called for a war council?"

Oreius inclined his head. "They're already gathering in the council room, your Majesty," he replied.

Peter looked out at the sun again. "Okay," he murmured, "I'll be there in a moment."

Oreius rested his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Narnia needs a king," he said quietly, his tone firm and unyielding despite the gentle softness, "and you cannot change what has already happened. You do the young King Edmund's memory no favors by dwelling on what could have been." Without waiting for Peter's reply, he turned and walked away.

Peter held his breath until the last echoing hoof-step faded, and then exhaled the air in a sharp sigh.

On the beach below, a few Animals were wandering around, cavorting about with a sense of carefree joy. Peter watched them, his eyes tracking every single step. He wished, for a fleeting moment, that he could join them and enjoy the pleasant day without thinking of anything else but the fresh air and the sweet smell of blooming flowers.

"Peter?"

He jumped, startled. Whipping around, he frowned for a moment at the two who stood before, then said, "I guess I should be paying better attention. I didn't hear you come."

Lucy laughed, shaking her head so that her brown hair bounded on her shoulders. "That's alright, Peter."

"You're lucky, though," Susan quipped, "that we weren't enemies, or you would be at our mercy." Then her expression became somber once more, and she said, "I saw Oreius leaving. What happened? What did he need to talk to you about?"

Peter sighed again. "Fell Creatures possibly forming an army in the Western Woods."

"Are you going to have to fight?" Lucy asked, instantly worried. Her young face turned up towards Peter, waiting for an answer. He nodded reluctantly, his mouth to dry to speak, and she looked down at the ground. "Oh." She swallowed, and added, "Be careful."

"Always, Lu," Peter promised. "You know that. I've fought Fell Creatures before, and been fine."

"But never an army," Lucy protested. "Not since…" She stopped, trailing off. "Not since the Great War."

"Why would an army gather in the Western Woods?" Susan asked, her analytical mind questioning Peter's information. "It is not particularly close to anything. Certainly not to Ettinsmoor."

Ettinsmoor, home to a rather unfriendly breed of Giants, had offered a haven to any of the Witch's old army who might have escaped the War with their lives. From there, they had been able to organize several attacks on Narnian soil. Time and again, Peter's army had been forced to drive them back across the mountains that separated the two lands.

"Maybe they want to go somewhere else," Lucy answered.

"Where?" Susan pressed. "They won't go to Archenland or Calormen, or anywhere else inhabited by people afraid of Narnian Creatures. Certainly not to the Telmarines. They'd only be killed their, or worse. And the Western Woods are too far away to launch a successful attack on Cair Paravel."

"Maybe they're not planning on attacking right away," Peter suggested thoughtfully, pondering over this puzzle. "Maybe they have plans for something else." He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing a map of Narnia laid out across the dark underside of his eyelids. "The Witch's castle is close…" he murmured, remembering how easy it had been for Edmund to slip away from the Beaver's home and walk directly into certain danger before any of them had noticed.

And how things might have been different if only they had paid attention…

"But why go there?" Susan asked, turning to Peter and watching the dark look that momentarily flashed through his eyes, knowing he was thinking of Edmund and wishing there was some way to remove that haunted expression from his smoldering eyes. "The Witch is dead."

"But her power lingers," Lucy murmured. "The only way she can be truly defeated is when all four of us sit on the thrones at Cair Paravel. The prophecy…" She stopped, shaking her head. It was useless to discuss this point now, given that the fourth monarch was gone and it was far too late to change what had happened. But without Edmund, the Witch's influence would never be completely destroyed, and Narnia would have no peace.

Peter eyed Lucy with a contemplative stare. Time had changed her from the little girl who cried so easily at taunts or laughed in delight at simple pleasures. The vestiges of that girl still remained, sometimes breaking through the outer façade of strength and duty that she wore like a heavy mantle on her shoulders. She'd taken the loss of Edmund so hard that for a time it had changed into someone different, so serious and grave, making her almost unrecognizable. Only time and slow healing had managed to bring some of the carefree laughter back into her eyes.

Susan instinctively reached out and rested an arm around Lucy's shoulders. She alone remembered what Edmund had been like, the cruel mocking he had directed at Lucy, the barely controlled fury that glimmered in his eyes when he looked at either her or Peter. In their grief, the other two had turned Edmund into an innocent victim, a saint who could do no wrong in their foggy memories. Grief, she supposed, did that to people, made them forget everything but the bubbling guilt that wouldn't ever go away.

She did not love Edmund any less for this, nor was her grief any less than that of Peter and Lucy. But she could see with a tempered wisdom what the others could not; that Edmund, too, had made mistakes. She used that knowledge to force herself forward, instead of letting her own pain bury her, rooted in grief. She used that knowledge to be the best Queen she could be, instead of letting herself, in an effort to dull the ache, sink into continual campaigns and battles, as Peter did, with little thought to anything but destroying every last memory of the Witch.

But… Edmund was still gone. And it still _hurt_.

And she wondered why, for all her efforts to be grown up, did she still feel like nothing more than a little girl dressed up in her mother's clothes?

Peter sighed, breaking the uneasy silence. "I need to get to the war council," he said finally. He turned, one last time, to look up at the sun as it rose higher in the sky. The sapphire blue stretched out as far as the eye could see, not a single cloud in sight. The golden-yellow sand of the beach glittered in the morning light, and the tiny drops of dew that sprinkled over the grass and leaves of the surrounding gardens glistened with an almost other-worldly glow. The air was filled with the scent of morning, of crushed pine and damp moss, of roses and lavender, of life.

Without Edmund… where was the wonder in any of this beauty?

He pushed the thoughts aggressively from his mind and made his way slowly towards the council rooms. This latest campaign would take him back into the Western Woods, back into the memories of the last time he had seen his brother. He gripped his hands tightly into fists, lips pressed into a straight line, and thought with some sense of vindictive pleasure that this would be one more opportunity to wipe out the Creatures who took his brother from him.

He entered the council room and was only vaguely aware of the salutes and bows he was receiving from all of the Animals and Creatures assembled. He wasted no time with pleasantries.

"You've all heard the rumors?"

There was a murmur of assent.

"If an army of Fell Creatures is gathering, it can be for nothing good," Peter said firmly. "I will not wait for them to attack us. They have already caused havoc for many of the peaceful Narnians living near our borders, and this time I would take the fight to them."

"Open attack?" a Panther asked, his white teeth bared in anticipation. "The Western Woods is far from Cair Paravel. Do you think perhaps they are trying to draw us from your Castle, your Majesty?"

Peter inclined his head. "That is quite possible, Shadow," he agreed. "Which is why I will leave half the army here, to protect the castle and my sisters."

"We know little about these Creatures," Philip pointed out. The great stallion paced back and forth across the stone floor, occasionally snorting impatiently and shaking his head from side-to-side. "Do they outnumber us?"

Peter turned a questioning stare to Oreius. The General answered, "Our spies have been unable to determine the number of Creatures in the army. To the best of our knowledge, they would not outnumber us in soldiers, but they may have magics that we do not."

A silence met those words, and all present knew that the centaur was referring to the types of magic employed by the Witch. Those magics, darker and far more deadly than any simple weapon of steel or wood, could cause great havoc in a battle.

"Do we know why they have gathered in the Western Woods? What do they want from us?" Philip pressed.

"From us?" Shadow interrupted, his tone sarcastic. "Nothing. They want us dead. Destroyed. They want our ruin."

"Your Majesty," came the tiny squeak of a Mouse. "while I agree with you that we cannot allow them to attack us again, I also wonder if perhaps we should proceed with more caution? We know next to nothing about these Creatures. I…" He hesitated, clearly not pleased about contradicting the High King, but then pressed on with growing determination, "I wonder, also, if they might be after you? If this could be a lure, not to leave Cair Paravel unprotected, but to ensnare you?"

Peter opened his mouth to respond, and then shut it as he forced himself to think over what the Mouse had said.

Philip, seeing the hesitation in the High King's eyes, ventured, "Perhaps Cheek is right."

The Mouse, Cheek, straightened a little at those words and attempted to pull himself to his full height, which was still much shorter than everyone else present.

Peter conceded with a short nod. "I suppose," he mused, "but isn't that always a danger with any battle?" He met Philip's gaze, and for a moment the Horse simply stared at him. He was unable to read anything in those deep brown eyes, and Philip said nothing, but Peter was left with the distinct impression that he had just been judged by the taciturn Animal.

He wondered what Philip had decided about him.

Philip was always the one of his advisors around whom he was least able to relax. He couldn't really say what it was about the Horse, but he often felt as though Philip was waiting for something or someone else to come along, as though his loyalty, while it would never waver from his duty to protect Narnia, was waiting for a different person, perhaps a different Monarch.

They discussed plans for a little while longer, then Peter dismissed the others with the order that those accompanying him on this campaign would need to be ready to leave by first light the next day. He knew he would need to tell Susan and Lucy that he was leaving, and take care of a few last minute matters of state before he could depart, and he hoped that a full day was enough time to complete those tasks.

As he left the room, Philip fell into step beside him. He was a bit startled by this, but he accepted it in good grace, curious as to why the Stallion wished to speak to him.

"Anger and pain are not good reasons to fight a war," Philip murmured abruptly. He was not looking at Peter, and his words were so quite the High King had to strain to hear them. But the meanings behind them were clear.

"I'm not…" Peter began, but Philip, in a startling breach of proper etiquette, interrupted him.

"There are many ways to get revenge. And many ways to obtain justice. Take care not to lose yourself while you pursue those paths. It is quite easy to get lost in them."

And without another word, he trotted away.

Peter watched him for a moment, then shook off the Horse's concerns. He had to do this, had to prove that he could keep his kingdom safe from the Witch's lingering influence, and from anyone else who tried to invade his peaceful country.

He'd failed Edmund. He wasn't going to fail anyone else.

* * *

_The Mountains beyond the Western Wood, later the same day…_

The Wolf was not having a good day.

His first attempt at hunting, a little white rabbit who had looked rather delicious, had easily escaped him when he was distracted by the sound of melting snow falling from a nearby tree and that tiny creature had zipped in between his legs and run to the safety of a nearby rabbit-hole.

His second attempt at hunting, a dark-furred fawn, had ended when the father had appeared and rammed his impressive mantle of antlers directly into the Wolf's chest.

And now, on his third attempt at hunting, he found himself somehow stuck in the prickly brambles of a large bush and his prey, a tasty-looking black and white badger, trundled careless away.

No, it was not a good day.

The sound of laughter split the air, and a boy stepped into view, his ragged dark hair falling over his eyes. "Trouble, Veltra?" he asked with a grin, watching as the Wolf struggled in vain to break free.

The Wolf turned a beady stare towards the boy and growled, "Well don't just stand there like an idiot. Help me out!"

The boy drew a knife from his belt and bent next to the Wolf, cutting at the brambles. "Hunting did not go well, then?" he asked, still smiling.

The Wolf bared his teeth. "What do you think, Edmund?" he snarled.

Instead of scaring the boy, as would most likely have been the case with anyone else, Veltra's words only caused further mirth for his rescuer. Edmund sliced the last bit of bramble away and helped Veltra stumbled from the bush, then collapsed onto the snowy ground, shaking with laughter.

"You'd better get back to the Village," he said finally, gasping for breath, "and let Artemis take a look at you."

"I don't need a Healer!" Veltra protested, his eyes flashing.

"Veltra, you're covered in thorns!" Edmund protested. When the Wolf did not reply, he pressed, "Come on, don't tell me you are afraid of a little medicine?" He rose to his feet, his boots sinking deeper into the soft snow with every move he made. "All she's going to do is pull out the thorns and put some ointment on your cuts." He paused again, adopting an air of thoughtful contemplation, then added, "Of course, she'll probably have to _shave_ you first…"

Veltra moved with all the grave and lightening-swift speed of a fully-grown Wolf, and pounced on Edmund, knocking him into his back on the snow. Lips curled back into a sneer, open jaws inches away from Edmund's face, he growled, "She will do no such thing!"

Edmund laughed again, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Alright, you win. I'll help you pull out the thorns. But if any of the cuts get infected, I'm taking you straight to Artemis."

"Humans," Veltra snorted in disgust, stepping off Edmund and allowing the boy to roll to his side and rise to a sitting position. "You're all useless, you know that?"

Edmund glared at him in mock outrage. "We are _not_ useless."

"Yes, you are. You're all slow runners, you don't know how to see or smell properly, and you haven't got decent claws. _Useless_," Veltra replied, wincing slightly as Edmund pulled a thorn out of his fur. A drop of blood fell to the snow, turning it red. He stared at it for a moment, wincing again as Edmund none-to-gently yanked another thorn from his side. A second drop of blood fell beside the first.

"These are in deep," Edmund said, and the friendly banter was gone, now replaced by real concern.

"I'm fine," Veltra said again, his tone firm and allowing no argument.

At that moment, a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than Edmund, stepped into the small clearing and studied the two carefully. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood on the snow, and she gasped in worried shock, "What happened?"

"Veltra had a mishap with the brambles," Edmund answered, pulling out the last of the thorns and shooting the newcomer an annoyed look. "What are you doing here? And why are you alone?"

The girl lifted clear blue eyes to his face and said with a mixture of pleading and defiance, "Father said it was alright for me to pick berries by myself, as long as I stayed near the edge of the Village." She tugged at a blonde braid, waiting with obvious anxiety for the response.

"You are not close to the Village anymore, Nasada." It was Veltra who had spoken this time.

"I know," the girl replied, now looking a little embarrassed. "I got lost."

"There have been rumors of enemies gathering," Edmund said, rising to his feet and crossing to Nasada. "Dangerous Creatures forming an army at the base of these mountains. You need to be careful."

The girl flashed a smile, the kind that made even the firmest of hearts melt, and said, "I know, Edmund. But do stop being such a spoilsport. I'm safe now, aren't I? You and Veltra are here to protect me."

Edmund hesitated, then nodded. "True."

"Come on, then," Nasada continued, turning away from Edmund and looking at Veltra, "we need to get you back to the Village so Artemis can look at your cuts."

Edmund stifled a smile as Veltra growled in aggrieved annoyance, "I do _not_ need a Healer."

"Oh, Veltra, don't be such a… a… a _male_!" Nasada protested, placing her hands on her hips and directing a motherly stare towards the Wolf. Despite her young age, she managed to muster a rather fierce expression on her face, and that caused Veltra to whine in response.

"Come now," Edmund chided lightly, "you may be able to refuse me, Veltra, but we both know you can not stand against Nasada for long."

"It won't take too long," Nasada promised. "You know Artemis can be so quick with cuts and scrapes."

"I don't need a…"

"Good," Nasada interrupted smoothly, "then it is settled. Come back to the Village now, Veltra." She turned and linked her arm through Edmund's elbow. "Come, brother."

"Alright, sister," Edmund agreed. "We're coming."


	3. Unwritten

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So there will be a few of my own original characters in these next few chapters. After a certain point (maybe five or six chapters in) almost all those characters will exit the story, and Veltra will be the only one who stays. So for anyone who is adverse to the creation of OCs, I can assure you that they will not remain in this story for long.

Summary: Everyone must face their fears, and only some can emerge unscathed, a lesson Peter learns the hard way.

* * *

Chapter Two: Unwritten

_Staring at the blank page before you,  
Open up the dirty window,  
Let the sun illuminate the words  
That you could not find.  
Reaching for something in the distance,  
So close you can almost taste it  
Release your inhibitions..._

_--Natasha Bedingfield "Unwritten" _

_The Lantern Waste, several days later…_

Peter stared at the camp, a frown fixed on his features. It was the position his face fell into now, whenever he wasn't paying attention to his expression. Lucy and Susan teased him about it, that he was so serious now he would frown without even realizing it. But he knew that it pained them to see the way this kingship was wearing him down.

His spies had set up a small camp in the Lantern Waste. It was difficult to move about here because everything was in the open, so easily visible from the surrounding hills and woods. They had gone to a great amount of trouble to keep this all a secret, and it wouldn't do to ruin it by letting the enemy see the entire army standing about in the middle of an open camp.

He let one hand rest on his sword, a gift from Father Christmas that had saved him many times in the past. His shield rested at his feet, the insignia staring up at him.

"Your Majesty?"

Peter turned at the sound of the deep voice and the clicking footsteps on the soil. "Oreius," he greeted, giving the Centaur a slight smile.

"We've sent more spies into the Western Woods and the mountains beyond them. I will let you know as soon as there are any reports."

"Thank you," Peter replied with a dismissive nod. As the Centaur trotted away, he reflected to himself that it was the waiting that was by far the most annoying. He fully understood the importance of gathering as much information as possible, but he was always left with a distinctly uneasy feeling when he had nothing to do but wait for a decision to be made. It gave his mind too much time to wander to unpleasant and unhappy thoughts.

He drummed his fingers on the slightly wrinkled cloth of his trousers and sighed.

He turned, glancing over his shoulders towards the distant hills, twin peaks that concealed the Witch's castle from view. The great ice building had miraculously managed to avoid melting in the heat of Narnia summers, no doubt due to some soft of magic. He had only seen it once or twice, riding past it on Perrin, his faithful white Unicorn. He had not stopped to gaze at the castle, unwilling to dwell at the place that once housed the great evil of Narnia. It was only another reminder of what he had lost, and now, as he stared into the distance and imagined those twisting ice turrets and towers, he thought of Edmund, and felt tears burn in his eyes.

He had failed.

The Witch was dead, but how could that ever be enough for him? Was he even fit to be High King? It was not him that had killed the Witch, after all. It was not him who had ended her cruel reign. What had he really done for Narnia? What had he done for his sisters, besides cost them their brother? What had he done for Edmund besides leave him to his death?

He had stood there, watching Edmund walk through the tall ice gates, and turned away. The Beavers had said that only Aslan could save Edmund, but even Aslan hadn't been able to do that. Why, oh why, had he listened to the Beavers? Why had he let himself be dragged away from that place? Why had he given in, knowing that he might never see his brother again? He should have gone into the castle and rescued Edmund. He should have been able to stop this, to prevent it. He should have...

He should have _known_.

He forced himself to think of the Witch's demise, to remember how she had fallen, as though those memories could somehow chase away the pain in his chest. It was cruel and vindictive, he knew that, but he took pleasure in remembering the look of shock on the Witch's face as she had fallen beneath the Great Lion's outstretched paws. But even as he thought of that, her final mocking words played through his mind, and he knew that although she had lost, he still had not won.

_Peter stumbled, pushed back by the Witch's furious onslaught. Behind him, a cliff plummeted to a hard rock ground far below. He chanced a weary glance at the steep incline, struggling to keep his footing as he countered yet another vicious blow._

_"Look, Little King," the Witch taunted, the malicious glee in her eyes almost too much for him to bear, "a cliff. Just like the one your brother fell from..." She smiled as she parried his blows. His sword was shaking, fury making him lose control of his weapon and forget his practice-honed skills. "Did you know? He tried to climb a solid ice wall to escape, but he fell... all the way down."_

_Peter flung himself at her, sword slicing through the air with deadly grace. His fiery eyes burned with a wrathful vengeance, blooding pounding in his ears as his heart rate increased with every breath he took._

_"I wonder," the Witch continued, easily avoiding his onslaught, "do you think he was scared as he fell? Do you think he cried out for his older brother to save him?"_

_The Witch raised her sword, knocking Peter the ground, and pointed her wand directly at him, ready to turn him into stone._

_"No!"_

_Both turned to look at the sound of the voice tearing through the air. Susan was standing on the tall rocks above them, her eyes blazing as she let an arrow fly from her bow. In her expression, he could read the determination. She was not going to lose another brother._

_The arrow caught the Witch in the arm, causing her to stumble back in pain and drop her wand. It fell harmlessly by her side, shattering into tiny pieces in a flash of brilliant white._

_And then Aslan appeared, and the Witch's triumphant expression turned to one of terror as the Great Lion pounced, and a moment later the battle had ended._

Peter shook his head and looked away again. He did not want to think about the Witch.

"Why not?" a voice asked, and he spun around to see her standing there, directly before him. Her pale face was lifted slightly so that the sunlight caught every inch of her expression, accentuating it. Her eyes, merciless and cold, watched him, and her lips split into an icy smile. "Am I so easy to forget?"

"You aren't real," Peter stuttered, refusing to let his fear overwhelm him. He looked around the camp, desperate to find others, but they were suddenly all gone, and he was standing alone. "Aslan killed you," he said, forcing himself to look at her once more.

"Did he now?" Jadis murmured, still smiling that horrible smile. "What a pity."

"Go away," Peter hissed, drawing his sword with a single fluid movement. "You have no sway over any of us."

"Oh, my dear Little King, how wrong you are," Jadis retorted, her voice silky. "Unless two Daughters of Eve and two Sons of Adam sit on those thrones at Cair Paravel, I have quite a bit of influence over everything." She tilted her head to the side, regarding him steadily. "And two Sons of Adam do not sit upon the thrones. Do they, Little King?"

"Enough!" Peter cried, raising his sword and slashing through the air. The blow would have cleaved her head from her shoulders, but she was no longer there, and Peter's sword crashed harmlessly into a rocky outcropping. The handle jolted from his fingers as the force of the collision caused tremors to race up his arm, and he barely managed to keep his grip on his sword.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty!"

Peter became dimly aware of Oreius and Perrin rushing to his side. All around him, several of his loyal soldiers were regarding him with wary fear. Jadis was no where to be seen.

"Your Majesty, what happened?" Perrin asked, the Unicorn clearly flustered by Peter's strange behavior.

"I... nothing," Peter whispered, still shocked himself.

"That wasn't nothing," Oreius countered. "Why did you draw your sword?"

"I thought... I thought I saw..." Peter trailed off, knowing just how bizarre his admission would sound. It must have simply been his subconscious playing tricks on him. Jadis couldn't be back, and there was no reason to worry everyone with stories of what he had seen. It was all nonsense. "It really was nothing, General," he said firmly, looking to Oreius. "I thought I heard something, and overreacted. There is no reason to be alarmed."

Oreius did not look convinced, but to Peter's relief, he let the matter drop.

"I am not nothing, Little King," Jadis' voice said, floating to him, "and I am certainly not someone to be so casually dismissed." He turned to face her once again, finding her standing behind him. Mysteriously, the others soldiers were gone once more, leaving him with the one-time Queen. He stared coldly back, using that bit of information as evidence that this clearly was a dream, because how else would Oreius and Perrin have just disappeared?

"You don't frighten me," he said, gripping his sword.

"Do I not?" she asked casually, mockingly. "I should, Son of Adam. I most definitely should."

"You are dead," Peter snarled, enunciating every word.

"But not gone, Little King," Jadis replied, "nor forgotten. Remember that."

"We will never come back," Peter promised, his words ringing with truth. "You will never bring your winter to Narnia. Never again."

"Do not make promises you may not be able to keep," Jadis replied evenly, eyes glittering. Her mouth twisted into a wry smirk. "Do not set out to do more than you can truly accomplish."

And then she was gone, fading away before his very eyes.

Oreius was back. "You see something, your Majesty," he said, and Peter realized he had been speaking aloud. Perrin was gone, and Peter blinked and wondered how the Unicorn had managed to leave without him noticing. Or had he and Oreius left after their previous conversation, and had Oreius somehow managed to approach him without being seen?

"I..." Again, he faltered. But Oreius, at least, he could trust to honestly listen and respond to whatever Peter needed to say. "I saw _her_. Jadis."

"A nightmare of sorts?" Oreius asked.

Peter wondered vaguely if they could be called nightmares should they continue to happen only during the day. "Perhaps," he agreed quietly. "But she seemed so... real."

"Most nightmares do," Oreius remarked. "What did she say to you? What did you say to her?"

"She told me that she still had power," Peter answered, "and I said I would never let her bring evil to Narnia." He looked at the Centaur for a moment, then sighed wearily. "I do not know, Oreius. She seemed so real, but she is not. How can she be? She's gone."

"Her influence lingers," Oreius murmured. He looked towards the Western Woods. "It may not be a dream after all, your Majesty. I will feel better when these Fell Beasts are found, and dealt with."

"Can she come back?" Peter asked, horrified.

"Without King Edmund on the throne," Oreius whispered, his voice low and filled with regret from having to broach such a painful subject to the High King, "she was never truly gone."

* * *

_A few hours later in the Mountains beyond the Western Woods…_

Shadow gave a snort of frustration as his paws sank into the soft snow. The Panther was an agile creature, and took pride in his ability to move silently and swiftly across all terrain. But these mountains proved to be more challenging that he had originally anticipated.

Philip seemed to find this all rather amusing. He, too, was having trouble navigating the land, but as a Horse, this did not bother him overly much. He took great pleasure in watching Shadow, however, as the Panther attempted to bound ahead and would find himself suddenly submerged to his underbelly in a snow drift.

The two Animals paused for a moment as they reached a clearing in the woods. Philip tilted his head towards the sky and stared at the distant peaks, craggy and dark, outlined against the sky. They were only in the foothills of these mountains now, and already they were encountering steep hills and treacherous land.

"It feels as though winter has never left," Shadow murmured, turning his head towards Philip. "The air... it is as though it has never been warm."

Philip nodded in wary agreement. They were not so high in elevation as to explain that strange phenomenon. Summer's heat should have melted at least some of the snow, but it clearly had made little impact here. He thought momentarily of the Witch, and wondered if somehow the Hundred Year Winter had managed to remain here. But was that possible? After all, it was not Jadis' death that had ended the winter, but rather the entrance of the four humans into Narnia and the reemergence of long-forgotten hope. That should have had the same effects everywhere.

As though reading his thoughts, Shadow growled, "Whatever the reason for this cold weather, Fell Beasts would certainly appreciate the snow. It would remind them of Jadis."

"Perhaps," Philip agreed, inclining his head. "Keep your eyes and ears open."

They continued in silence for a while. The air grew colder as they trudged further through the hills until finally their lungs ached with every freezing inhale. And even so, the mountains continued to rise in front of them, taunting them, perpetually out of reach. Occasionally a movement just out of their line of vision would bring one of the two to a halt, but for all their searching they had yet to find any physical proof of this supposed army of Fell Beasts.

A hawk circled overhead. Philip raised his eyes and paused, watching the bird circle in lazy loops.

"We should turn back," he said abruptly, slanting a look towards his Panther companion. "We should return to the camp."

"Why?" Shadow asked, unnerved by the forceful determination in Philip's tone. "What is it?"

Philip shook his head back and forth, his eyes fixed again on the hawk. He did not understand the panic in his chest, nor the fear pumping through his veins. These emotions seemed to have no cause, no justification, but he could not shake the desire to be someone else. _Anywhere _else.

"Philip?" Shadow pressed, concerned.

"I don't know," the Horse murmured finally, neighing softly. "But we must go. _Now._"

As it turned out, "now" was still much too late for the Horse. As he and Shadow turned back towards the camp, they found themselves facing several Wolves who had slipped noiselessly over the snow and now blocked their path, teeth bared. Behind the Wolves, a Minotaur, three dwarves, and a Harpy watched with cruel smirk's fixed to their otherwise coldly blank expressions. The Minotaur carried a large club, and two of the dwarves were armed with bows.

"Well, well, well..." One of the Wolves growled, walking forward. He was the largest of the pack, with snow white fur and two rows of jagged teeth that glinted in the light. "What have we here?" he snarled, his words mocking. The other Creatures behind him laughed, and one of the Wolves let out a keen howl. "A Horse and Panther. What an unusual companionship."

Philip eyed the Wolf with disdain. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked, and his tone made it quite clear that he would accept nothing but a straight answer. Beside him, Shadow drew himself back onto his haunches and displayed his own teeth in warning. Above them, the circling hawk disappeared, floating into the clouds and winging its way over the mountains.

"Ah, and a brave Horse at that," the Wolf continued, deriving some callous pleasure out of his words. "Very well." He dipped his head in an elegant bow and continued, "I am Asha, at your service."

"And what do you want, Asha?" Shadow pressed, tensing his well-toned muscles. They rippled along his back, just under his fur.

Asha moved, his quick reflexes sending him lunging easily towards the Horse. As though his movement had been the sign to trigger an attack, the other Wolves jumped forward as well, sending howls towards the sky. The Minotaur lifted his club and gave a mighty roar, followed by cries from all three dwarves. The Harpy waited a moment, shuffling her wings, and then she too joined in the attack.

There was little for the two members of the High King's army to do but turn and run. They disappeared into the wooded hills with the pack of Wolves close on their heals, and the other Fell Creatures lumbering along behind.

* * *

_Evening, in the Village..._

The taller of the two men, Dar, folded his arms across his chest and glared at his companion. He was leaning against the rough wood wall of the hut, deep in argument with the leader of the Village. Between the two of them, a partially-shaved Wolf lay silently on the floor, watching the two with brightly burning eyes.

"Jaxom, you have to agree that these Creatures can only have evil thoughts in mind," Dar said hotly. "Why else would they gather in secret in our woods?"

The other man, Jaxom, raised an eyebrow and said in a stern tone, "Not all Fell Beasts are evil. Veltra is proof of that." He gestured to the Wolf on the floor before he continued, "We cannot afford to alarm the Village if this is not truly an emergency."

Dar gave a great huff of annoyance and turned his head away. The smells of cooking drifting on the gentle breeze. With those smells came the sound of laughter, of footsteps on the snowy blanket outside, of pots clinking against each other, of several fires crackling, sending smoke billowing out of chimneys and up into the starry evening sky.

"These rumors have existed long enough for us to be afraid," Dar said finally. "Edmund has seen the track of Wolves, heard the whispers of dwarves and polar bears for days now, Jaxom. How much longer will you make us wait? Until they attack? Until we are in danger?"

"Dar, come here," Jaxom said finally, and he lead his friend to the entrance of the hut. The two of them stood side-by-side and stared out at the scene before them.

The sun was sinking over the surrounding mountains, giving everything an eerie golden-red tint. The Village, comprised of several huts circling around a large meeting hall, was filled with the sound of chattering. Directly in front of the meeting hall, two women stood, each balancing baskets of laundry on their hits, talking animatedly. A few feet away from them, a toddler clung tightly to the back of a Wolf, squealing in delight as the Animal careened about. The toddler was being watched by his older sister, who sat on a rough-hewn wooden bench, a book laid across her lap. At the further edges of the Village, several men and women milled about, talking, laughing, exchanging spices or oils or other cooking items, offering to help with chores or watch each other's children.

"What do you see?" Jaxom asked quietly. "Do you see warriors, Dar? Do you see soldiers?"

From a nearby hut, two children emerged. The girl, bright golden hair flying loose around her head, was arguing passionately with her brother, clearly begging for his help with something. The boy, gray eyes narrowed in a strange sort of desperation to escape this conversation, dutifully walked alongside her and repeatedly shook his head.

Jaxom nodded towards them. "Your children, Dar. Do they look like fighters to you?"

"Ed, please!" the girl cried. "Oh, please, please, please!"

"Nasada," Edmund muttered, his eyes downcast. He could tell already that he would not win this argument.

"No," Dar breathed. "No, they are not fighters." He glanced at Jaxom. "But Edmund knows how to wield a sword and shoot an arrow. He might not _be _a fighter, but he still knows how."

"And you would send him to fight this supposed army?" Jaxom asked pointedly, watching as the shutters dropped over Dar's eyes.

It took Dar a moment to reply, and when he did, he spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. "Of course I would not. I would protect Edmund with my own life, if I could. But we must recognize, Jaxom, that just because we do not choose to start a battle, it does not mean the battle will not be started. And it does not mean we will not have to fight."

"And what would you have me tell our people, Dar? That there may or may not be an army of dangerous Creatures gathering in the woods beyond our mountains and these Creatures may or may not mean us harm? That would cause a panic."

At this point Veltra, who had until then been lying quietly on the floor absorbing the warmth of the flickering fire, rose slowly to his feet and trudged over to the two arguing men. "You are both right," he said, "and you are both wrong." He, too, looked out at the Village. "They are not fighters. Very few of us ever were, and we all live here in perfect harmony with each other. We barely ever harbor grudges, and all our quarrels are over little, rather petty things. To tell them of this danger would ruin everything we have striven to achieve. It would forever destroy our hard-earned peace."

"Oh, thank you, Ed!" Nasada cried, flinging her arms around her brother. Her voice traveled on the wind, and several turned to look at her, barely concealing their smiles of laughter and indulgence. Edmund had clearly given into her pleas, as he often did, and there was much chuckling from the other lads his age at how easily his sister could best him.

Veltra watched the two for a moment, then raised a serious gaze to Jaxom and said, "But just because we have had no contact with the world beyond these mountains for a hundred years does not mean that that world no longer exists. If war is upon us, we may have no other choice."

Jaxom turned and walked back into the hut, annoyed but forcing himself to accept the truth in Veltra's words. His little village of people had survived for so long by creating harmony with anyone they stumbled across, including a few of the Fell Beasts who had come here to escape the slavery of Jadis' regime. It would be almost completely unfathomable to most of them that they could be facing an enemy who truly meant them harm.

"We do not know if this army is coming towards us," Jaxom said at last, giving Veltra a long look. "They are in the lower peaks. They have not ventured high enough into the mountains to find our homes yet. Perhaps they never will."

"It is true that we do not know what they want," Veltra agreed. "Perhaps we will escape this unscathed."

"Perhaps," Dar murmured, although his eyes clearly reflected his skepticism. "But we still must be careful. Nasada has wandered into the woods on her own before, and she is not the only child in the Village to do so. We must guard our boarders and our families with more fervor and more attention."

"I agree," Veltra assented in a low growl.

A woman appeared in the doorway of the hut. Her blonde hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back from her face in a loose bun, and several wind-swept strands fell against the pale skin of her neck. Her eyes, a gray-blue like the sky on a stormy day, were currently narrowed at Dar. "What are you talking about?" she said, stepping further into the room.

"The rumors," Dar answered, shifting nervously under her scrutinizing stare. "Just the rumors, Sera."

The woman, Sera, did not appear pleased with this answer. "Rumors of Fell Beasts? Of armies gathering in the woods, meant to kill us all? Those are hardly _just _rumors." She glanced over her head, staring at something they could not see, then snapped her gaze back to Jaxom. "He's seen tracks in the forests. He says something is coming. He says he can _feel _it."

"Edmund?" Jaxom asked, although he didn't really need to question who the ambiguous pronoun referred to. He switched his gaze to Dar, who nodded and looked away, uncomfortable with discussing this subject.

"Which is why we need to address this threat now, Sera," Dar said. "If Edmund senses that..."

"He shouldn't _sense _anything!" Sera hissed, her voice low and shaking with pent-up emotion. Veltra padded softly to her side, taking a seat next to her, his eyes fixed only on her face. Jaxom glanced between the two and wondered how this conversation would end, and just how many people would be mad at him tonight. Dar had dropped his eyes back to the floor, but his hands were clenched into fists.

"You can't keep him from that," Jaxom pointed out logically. "You know Edmund sees things the rest of us cannot. It is not his fault. It may not even be the curse you perceive it to be."

"You fill his head with these ridiculous notions, Jaxom," Sera retorted. "You teach him about myths and legends and things that don't exist anymore. Things that need not affect us. But I see the way his eyes burn when you speak of... of... of _Her_." She stopped herself, unable to say the dreaded name that always seemed to linger on the edge of her tongue. Jadis. They had thought little of the Witch for a long time now, but Edmund was different. When he heard the stories of the Witch, of the Great Lion, of all other magics in this world, his eyes would fill with a fiery passion, as though the legends spoke directly to him, _for _him.

"Sera..." Jaxom started, but Dar interrupted him.

"I know you want what is best for our son, Sera," he said, resting his hand on his wife's arm. "I want that to. I want, more than anything, to keep him and Nasada safe. Forever. But we cannot do that. The future, _their _future, may well be out of our hands."

Sera faltered for a moment, then replied, "Even if that is so, there is no reason to invite more trouble here." She let her gaze wander the room, resting first on Veltra, then on Jaxom, before returning to Dar. "He is our son, Dar."

"I know," Dar agreed.

"None of us wish him harm," Jaxom attempted to reassure the irate mother. "None of us want anything bad to happen to him."

Sera swallowed back an angry retort and sighed. "I know. I know you mean him all the best. I know you only want to protect him, like you protect all of us." She turned again, looking over her shoulder, and this time the other could catch glimpses of what had captured her attention. Edmund and Nasada were racing through the snow, throwing snowballs at each other. Several other children had joined in the game, and the air was thick with flurries of white.

She looked back at Jaxom.

"He is my son," Sera said, and her voice, though quiet, was fierce. "We hear rumors of Fell Beasts in the mountains and he senses something happening. I know our small world could irrevocably change in the blink of an eye, but some things remain the same. He is _my _son."

"Yes," Jaxom agreed softly, "but he's someone else's son as well._"_


	4. Either Way

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This is the last of the introduction-type chapters. After this, the action really starts, and the main plot of the story will unfold.

Summary: Lucy's prayers are heard by the last person she expected, and Peter makes a decision that may endanger them all.

* * *

Chapter Three: Either Way

__

_Poison in everything you say.  
Don't you, don't you  
Wonder what difference does it make...Either way?_

-Guster, "Either Way"

_Night, Cair Paravel..._

Lucy Pevensie stood in the throne room and stared at the four empty thrones before her. It didn't get an easier, she reflected, to stand here and stare at the place where Peter was supposed to sit. It was just another reminder of how far-gone their brother was, for he rarely resided at Cair Paravel long enough to sit on his throne. There were always enemies to fight and boundaries to protect, and the High King could always find an excuse to ride off into the distance with his army trailing behind.

Always find an excuse not to sit here and stare moodily at that fourth throne.

Sometimes she felt compassion and pity for Peter. She knew he carried his responsibilities heavily on his shoulders, and she knew that, as the oldest, he still firmly believed that it was his job to watch over his siblings, to keep them safe. She saw the haunted look in his eyes whenever he brooded over what he considered his greatest failure - Edmund - and her own heart ached for him.

And sometimes, she felt anger. Anger, because he wasn't the only one who had lost Edmund, and he wasn't the only one who felt guilty now that they thought over their past careless actions and words. He was falling apart inside, and she wanted him to open his eyes and realize that she felt the exact same way.

She had said things she wished so desperately she could take back now.

_"Apologize," Peter ordered tersely, looming over Edmund, eyes glaring at his younger brother._

_Edmund swallowed, appearing to realize that he could not refuse this demand, and let his gaze alight briefly on Lucy. "Alright, I'm sorry," he muttered in an incredibly unapologetic tone, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and letting his sullen gaze drop to the snow-covered ground._

_"That's alright," Lucy said cheerfully, eyes lighting up, "some little children just don't know when to grow up."_

She wished she could take it all back now, but she couldn't, and Peter wasn't the only one filled with guilt and grief.

"He'll come home, Lu. Aslan will guide Peter home to us," a voice said softly, and Lucy spun around to see Susan standing in the doorway to the throne room.

Lucy nodded, opening her mouth to say something, and found the words catching in her throat as she choked back a strangled sob. She looked back at Peter's throne. "Watch over him, Aslan," she prayed. "Please... just watch over him."

* * *

_Night, the Lantern Waste..._

When Philip charged into camp with a half-alive Panther draped over his back, Oreius knew the battle would soon be upon them. The wild light in Philip's eyes, a combination of exertion and fury, was enough clue for him to know exactly what had happened, and when High King Peter's hand slid down to his sword and his expression became stony, the Centaur felt a wave of fleeting sympathy for the Fell Beasts who would soon find themselves on the end of that blade.

"What happened?" Peter asked as several Centaur's strode forward and lifted Shadow to the ground. The Cat gave a pitiful grown, little more than a weak meow, and his eyes fluttered slightly. Peter's attention snapped to the Animal, but Shadow soon slipped back into an unconscious fever.

"Wolves," Philip snarled, his usually quiet voice uncharacteristically harsh. "A Minotaur, a Harpy, some dwarves."

The gathered Creatures stepped aside as the sound of rushing footsteps could be heard, and a dryad made her way towards the wounded Panther. She knelt down beside Shadow, her hands moving over his injuries with professional skill.

"Will he...?" Peter trailed off, and did not finish the question.

The healer looked up, her expression grave. "He is badly wounded, your Majesty," she replied. "I will do my best." She turned her attention to Philip and asked, "Was any magic used on him?"

"No," Philip answered, shaking his head. "The Wolves caught up with us. We were running, trying to escape, but..." he looked down at Shadow, "... they were fast. They tore him to pieces before I could kick them off with my hooves. We almost got hit by a few arrows from the dwarves, as well. But no magic."

"Well, thank Aslan for that," the healer murmured. "There's more of a chance, then, that he will heal. Still, I must set to work at once." She turned again, this time looking over at Oreius. "General, I will need more than just the supplies I brought with me. Can you spare a few of your soldiers to find some herbs and plants?"

Oreius dipped his head. "Tell me what you need, and it will be done."

As the two began to discuss healing supplies, Peter turned to Philip and squinted through the dimly lit night. "Are you hurt?"

"A few scratches, your Majesty," Philip replied, although the gash that ran along his flank, courtesy of a Wolf's claws, was much more than just a scratch. Still, it was not nearly as serious as those wounds on Shadow, and it was not his blood that was currently dyeing the dirty ground a dark crimson red. "I will wait until Shadow is treated."

The moon passed behind a cloud, and a shadow of darkness fell over the camp, leaving its occupants with only the stars by which to see. They had opted not to light fires to keep their presence hidden as best as possible. But now that the Fell Beasts had attacked, it was clear that they could no longer rely on the advantage of a surprise attack. The danger seemed to grow closer, as though it were physically sneaking up on them, and Peter shivered for a moment, unnaturally cold.

He thought of his earlier vision of Jadis, and wondered.

"They clearly mean us harm," he said finally, turning to Oreius. The General had finally left Shadow's side, and he and Philip joined the High King as he walked slowly towards the center of the camp. They were joined a moment later by Cheek, the leader of the Mice, and Tsipor, a sparrow who often served as a spy.

"I agree," Oreius replied heavily. "The attack on you and Shadow was unprovoked?" he asked, slanting a quick look at Philip.

The Horse gave a derisive snort. "We did nothing at all. They surprised us." He turned a level gaze to Peter. "We did not hear or smell them coming. We must be careful, your Majesty, for these Beasts are skilled fighters and scouts. Shadow should have sensed them coming. But he did not."

"We cannot wait to learn more about them," Peter argued. "They have already attacked us. I will not sit idly by and give them time to launch an attack on our camp." He looked over his shoulder to where several centaurs were gingerly lifting Shadow onto a stretched, intent on transporting the Panther to the healer's tent. "What they did to Shadow is unforgiveable, and I will not allow it to happen to anyone else."

"And how will you attack?" Philip countered. "We know nothing about this army. We do not know where they are located, nor do we know how many Beasts they have."

Peter turned to Tsipor, who was riding on Oreius' shoulder, and asked, "Can you find them?"

The Sparrow considered this for a moment, before answering, "If they are visible from the air, yes. But if they are hidden, which they most likely are..." He looked towards the mountains. It was too dark to see them clearly, but a hazy outline was visible against the inky sky. "Those are large mountains, your Majesty. They could be anywhere."

Philip pawed the ground for a moment, then said, "It was cold. Like the air had never been warm. Like winter had never left."

Peter stopped walking and stared at the Stallion. Philip stared back, unruffled by the scrutiny of the High King.

It was the Mouse who voiced what they were all thinking. "Like the Witch's winter?" Cheek asked, his high-pitched squeak sounding even a bit higher than usual, courtesy to his nerves. His eyes darted back and forth between Philip and Peter, waiting for an answer. Peter did not reply to the question, and Philip did not break eye contact with his king. "If it is the Witch's magic..." Cheek whispered, wishing someone would say something.

Peter finally broke the uneasy silence and looked down at the Mouse with a forced smile. "Are you afraid? I thought Mice were the bravest of all Creatures?"

His teasing was strained, but Cheek jumped at the chance to further break the awkward tension, and said, "Why, we are the bravest, Sire. I will lead my Mice into the mountains. Just say the word, and we will go!"

"The Fell Beasts should surrender now. How could anyone stand against you?" Oreius chuckled, grateful for the softer look that was now appearing in Peter's eyes. He'd been worried by the fury there, knowing full well that the High King often acted before thinking. This was not a time to rush blindly into a battle, not if the magic of the Witch was somehow involved, and he sent a silent thank you to Aslan for Cheek's mischievous smile and quick words.

"Indeed!" Cheek cried, pulling loose his sword. "My short stature is only a guise for my lightning-quick reflexes! The greatest of Minotaurs could not stand against one as fierce as I!"

"Peace, my friend," Peter said, his face falling into a true smile. "In this battle, I think we will all be standing together."

Tsipor hopped from one foot to another, ruffling his feathers. "What would you have me do, your Majesty?" he trilled anxiously.

Peter sighed, a slow exhale. He could feel Philip's eyes boring deeply into his back, and try as he might he could not keep himself from straightening slowly and turning to meet the Horse's steady gaze. There was that same look in those dark eyes, the look that left him with a familiar sensation of being judged. Once again, he wished he could have known what the Horse was thinking.

"I will take soldiers and we will go back into those mountains," Peter said finally. "Tomorrow, first light. I will find these Fell Beasts..."

He walked away, and Cheek scurried after him. Tsipor lifted himself into the air, wings flapping twice, then glided along behind the High King.  
Philip turned to go, but Oreius blocked his path. His face was stern as he said, "You do not approve of this plan."

Philip didn't answer immediately. He took his time, letting himself carefully choose his words. In the dark night, his eyes glittered with the reflected light of thousands of stars, giving him an unearthly look.

"There is no doubt in my mind that these Creatures mean us harm," Philip said finally. "But that still does not explain why they are here, nor does it tell us what exactly it is they want. And the High King wishes to rush into these mountains with his sword drawn. But what good will that do? What good will any of this do for Narnia if he is killed?"

"What do you think of him?" Oreius asked.

Philip drew back his lips in what could only be described as a twisted smile. "He is the High King," the Horse answered.

"Yes, but what do you think of him?" Oreius pressed. As the General of the King's Army, he did not often encourage others to give their opinions on the king himself. Certainly on his plans and strategies, for even the greatest king needs those who will question his motives and movements lest he be mistaken in something. But Peter was the High King, and that meant that, as a person, the boy himself was above scrutiny.

But Philip was different. And Oreius found he did want the Horse's opinion.

"I think he has a good heart," the Horse replied finally. "It is his head that causes me worry."

"It is his heart that will lead others to follow him into this battle tomorrow. His heart that will cause others to fight by his side."

Philip gave a snort. "Against an army unknown to us with magic that may far overpower our own." He looked at the outlines of the mountains in the distance, and wondered silently where this army of Fell Beasts was hiding. "He may have the love and adoration of every Narnia, he may have Aslan's blessing, but... there are other magics in this world besides Aslan's. And it is those that I fear."

* * *

_Early morning, the mountains beyond the Western Wood..._

Veltra decided that he really did not like Edmund anymore. The boy was far too much trouble. Already he had attempted to outsmart the Wolf and disappear into the woods three times. But Veltra would not let that happen.

"Edmund! Wait," the Wolf demanded, bounding over the snow towards the boy. "How many times do I have to tell you not to wander off when I am supposed to be keeping an eye on you?"

Edmund rolled his eyes at the Wolf. "You are too protective," he complained. "I don't need you to follow me around all the time."

"Sera said..."

"I know what my mother said," Edmund interrupted, shaking his head. For some reason he could not quite fathom, his mother had been incredibly worried about him when he arose that morning. She's practically ordered the Wolf to trail her son everywhere, even though he was still in earshot of the Village, hardly more than a stone's throw away from his home. It was unusual for her to act in such a manner, particularly since only a few days ago she had been fine with Edmund wandering through the mountains by himself.

Edmund sighed. He knew it would be almost impossible to shake the Wolf from his trail. It was not as though he could simply outrun him, and hiding was out of the question as well. But having Veltra tag along would also ruin his plans, and he had promised Nasada...

He grimaced. He had no idea why he had promised Nasada. Except that it was impossible to say no to her when she would stare up at him with her large blue eyes and innocent smile and so his resolve would steadily crumble.

"Why are you so eager to be off by yourself, anyway?" Veltra demanded, resting back on his hind legs and giving Edmund a quizzical look.

"I'm doing something," Edmund said stubbornly.

"Obviously." Veltra waited, but Edmund did not appear to have any intention of elaborating further, and finally he barred his teeth and said, "If you want to lose me as your shadow, you should really start explaining."

"I can't!" Edmund muttered in frustration. "I promised."

Tilting his head to the side, the Wolf surveyed his friend for a moment. Then a look of understanding appeared in his eyes, and he commented mockingly, "You promised Nasada, didn't you? And Aslan knows you wouldn't want to disappoint her."

"She asked me to help her," Edmund said, his voice practically a wail as he flopped down on a large rock that spread out to his left. Snow instantly soaked through his trousers, but he paid little attention to it. "I couldn't say no. She did that thing where she looks at you... so hopeful and... I just..." He threw his hands up into the air in annoyance. "Little sisters are a pain, Veltra. You are lucky you only have brothers."

The Wolf gave a barking laugh. "Perhaps." He paused, then asked, "Can you tell me anything about what you promised Nasada?"

"I was going to help her with a surprise," Edmund explained at last. "For our mother's birthday." He glanced behind him and gestured vaguely with one hand. "I needed to gather some things for her. From the woods."

"And your mother frightens me," Veltra deadpanned, "much more than you ever could. I'd obey her over you any day."

Veltra pawed the ground for a moment, watching as his legs sank deeper into the snow. "Alright. I'm going to stay right here. Do not go any place where I would not be able to smell you. And call for help if anything strange happens."

"What's going to happen?" Edmund pointed out reasonably. He may have only lived in these mountains for a short time, shorter than the Wolf, but he knew them well enough. And he had never felt unsafe before. His mother was simply worrying too much and for reasons he could not fathom.

Veltra did not answer, but simply settled himself to wait as the boy walked away. He knew exactly what could happen if these Fell Creatures were loyal to the Witch, but Edmund was still far too young and too carefree to understand the dangers that awaited him within these woods. The Wolf also knew what specifically Sera was afraid of, and as he walked Edmund disappear into the closely spaced trees, he wondered, not for the first time, where the boy had come from, where he truly belonged, and why the Deep Magic had brought him here.

But Edmund was oblivious to all this as he wandered into the woods. Instead, he focused on the cool, crisp air, the gentle chill of a breeze that whispered through the bare branches of the trees, and the bright glare of the sun that reflected off the blanket of deep white snow. He loved this place with all his heart, but in the still of the silent forest, he couldn't help wonder at the feeling in his chest, a tugging sensation. As though he had forgotten something.

He felt that way when he looked at Nasada. She reminded him of someone, someone he couldn't quite place. Her eyes were always filled with innocent joy, and she insisted on seeing only the best in people. Sometimes it left him with an ache deep inside, like pain or guilt. A reminder of something he had once done to someone else who had looked at him with that same always-trusting gaze...

But the memories were like wisps of fog, and they constantly slipped through his fingers, growing even more obscure as he tried harder to grasp at their meanings.  
Nasada wanted to make a warm winter cloak for her mother. A cloak lined with cotton and wool and fur. She had been secretly practicing her weaving abilities, and had elaborate plans for the designs she would carefully weave into this present. She had all the materials, but not the dyes. And she couldn't very well ask her mother for those dyes because then she would have to explain why she needed them, and that would ruin the surprise. So she had entreated Edmund to help her by gathering some of the natural colors from these mountains; the red of winter berries, the dark purple from shells found along the edges of hidden pools and springs, the green from the inside of tree roots. And of course, Edmund had taken one look at those round, eager eyes... and caved.

He was lost in his own rather disgruntled thoughts when something seemed to snag at the edge of his conscious. He looked up sharply, eyes scanning the area, but saw nothing unusual. Biting his lip, he dismissed it as just a daydream, and continued to trudge through the snow.

_Watch over him, Aslan. Please... just watch over him._

The words echoed in his mind, sudden and sharp and jarring and filled with meaning he didn't understand. There was no one around, so he couldn't have actually heard them. But the words were there. A prayer of some sort. A prayer that had ended up reaching him.

Why?

He turned, glancing over his shoulder in the direction he had come. He could no longer see Veltra, but he knew the Wolf was waiting for him, prepared to rush to his side in a moment's notice. He considered calling for his companion, but pushed the thought away. He wasn't in any danger now, and he didn't need anyone to protect him. Besides, he really did not want to admit to Veltra that he was hearing voices.

He gave a light chuckle. He knew _exactly _what the Wolf would say to that.

Besides, he reasoned, it wasn't really his concern. The prayer had been to Aslan, and if he had heard it, then the Great Lion must have heard it as well.

He pushed deeper into the forested mountains.


	5. Torn

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: And now the real plot begins...

Summary: A chance meeting in the woods leaves Peter with nothing but questions, and Edmund's life takes a sudden spiralling turn into chaos.

* * *

Chapter Four: Torn

_Illusion never changed__  
Into something real.  
__I'm wide awake and I can see  
The perfect sky is torn._

-Natalie Imbruglia, "Torn"

_  
The Village, late morning..._

_  
_The Horse came thundering into the Village, barely managing to avoid the children playing in the snow. He skidded to a halt and threw back his head, neighing loudly. A moment later, several men and women rushed out of their tents and raced towards him, eyes wide with fear and concern.

"What is it?" Jaxom said as he skidded to a halt in front of the Horse.

"Wolves and other Creatures in the woods. They're close to the Village," the Horse panted. "They bring weapons. They clearly do not mean well."

A momentary hush fell as they all accepted the warning in uneasy apprehension. They were not fighters, none of them. Most of the Animals that lived in the Village had been born there, and consequently even the few Wolves, large Cats, and the one Bear family did not even know the elements of fighting. They hunted only to eat, and had never killed another Creature unless they needed the food. This was not a situation with which they were familiar, nor was it one with which they were comfortable. What chance could a small band of peaceful people and Animals stand against mercenary and vicious attackers? Particularly when that small band could not even stomach the idea of killing unless for meat.

They had no concept of self-defense, of enemies. They had no understanding of evil or of those that might want to hurt them. It was, quite simply, a completely foreign concept.

And yet, they needed to defend their homes and families.

As the men began to shout in protest and shock and worry, one young blonde girl listened to the talk with a heavy heart. Silently, and unnoticed by the others, she turned and rushed away, moving quickly through the snow-covered paths towards the woods that boarded her village home, intent on finding and warning the brother she had earlier sent into those very woods to find dyes for her.

It wasn't until several minutes later that her absence was noted, and a general cry of alarm rose from one of the huts. Sera rushed out, face pale and shocked, and cried in a growing panic, "Nasada! Nasada, where are you?"

* * *

_The Mountains beyond the Western Wood, same time..._

Edmund looked up sharply as Veltra appeared at his side. A look of annoyance crossed the boy's features, and he said darkly, "Veltra, I told you I can..."

"There were others... Fell Creatures... spotted in the woods," Veltra interrupted, his words harsh and sharp with fear. "They do not mean this Village well. Have you seen Nasada?"

Edmund's expression, which had only a moment ago been one of bewildered frustration, turned into bewildered worry. "Isn't she in the Village?" he asked breathlessly, blooding pumping through his veins at the thought of his family in danger.

"No. Sera thought she might have gone looking for you. Dar has joined the groups searching for these Creatures..." He trailed off, dark eyes growing abruptly weary. "We will fight them, if we must."

Edmund felt his stomach turning at that thought. His family, his community, at war? In battle? That was utterly ridiculous. They would not kill, they simply did not have that ability. It was preposterous to expect anything from them other than gentle offers of friendship. And then, as those thoughts faded, others took their place with a burning intensity that did little to ease the horror he was feeling.

_This is all my fault._

He did not know where that thought came from, nor why it had so suddenly filled his mind. But he could not shake the guilt, now that it had settled into his heart, so he turned and stared at the trees, peering into the distance.

"You should go back to the Village," Veltra said, his voice tense.

"I... I cannot," Edmund admitted slowly, barely able to put into words the feelings that plagued him now. "I must..."

"You must do nothing! You are not a warrior, Edmund. Do not pretend to be one!"

But Edmund was no longer listening. Instead, he pushed into the trees, fighting as the branches seemed to cut at his side, pull him backwards.

"They're moving!"

He stopped and looked back at Veltra, barely comprehending the Wolf's startled exclamation. But Veltra was no longer looking at him. Instead, he was staring up at the trees, unable to to see anything else but the ominous movements of the branches. The Wolf began slowly backing away, oblivious to anything else.

And Edmund saw, with a startling realization, that Veltra was right. The trees were moving... towards him.

_"Come, my little prince. Come, Son of Adam. Come."  
_

"Do you hear that?" Edmund asked, pulling out a thin knife and holding it in front of them as though to ward off what he could not see. There was nothing around him except trees, and as they crept closer he heard Veltra growling, trying to get through.

"Hear what?" Veltra snapped before the last of his words was lost and Edmund found himself entirely alone, surrounded on every side by the trees. The sun above him was hidden by the swaying, snow-covered branches, and the air was suddenly so much colder, so much harsher, than he remembered._  
_

_"Come. Come my prince. Oh, but you are not a prince, are you? Come, my little _King_."_

He walked towards the voice, feeling both and incredible, insatiable desire to find the source, and a revulsion deep in the pit of his stomach at the sound still echoing in his ears. The knife fell from his limp fingers, disappearing into a fresh snow bank, but he barely paid it any heed. Instead, he continued to walk forward, continued to listen to the voice, silken and sweet and filled with dangerous promises.

He felt a hand on his arm, and turned sharply, but there was nothing there. Frowning, he glanced around once more.

_"Come. This way."_

He turned towards the voice. Again, all he saw where the dark woods, trees looming overheard, guiding him through the snow.

And then he heard the furious roar of a lion.

And the trees were gone, moving backwards, away from him, leaving him standing in the middle of a clearing, eyes wide, heart beating frantically. The air was warmer, sweeter, easier to breath. The sun was hot against his skin, and the mesmerizing voice was gone, replaced by wind rustling the branches of the trees and the distant howl of Wolves._  
_

_"Come, Son of Adam. You are needed elsewhere."_

It was a different voice, deeper and gentler and plain. It held no danger, no promises, no fears. Nothing but trust and the simple expectation that he would follow it.

And so he did.

* * *

_Elsewhere in the Mountains beyond the Western Wood, same time..._

"Do you feel that?" Oreius asked quietly, one hand wrapped tightly around a sword as he plodded through the snow-covered ground.

"Yes," Peter murmured quietly. "The air is... it feels, it smells... like... _Her_."

Oreius nodded. Turning, the centaur caught Philip's eye and asked, "How far did you come with Shadow?"

"Not this far," Philip answered, neighing nervously as his eyes scoured the white land. They had yet to come across any Fell Creatures, or even any signs of such beings. But Philip remembered all too well how easily they had been ambushed before, and he could not quite quell the growing sense of dread in his chest. The Horse was worried.

"Every step it feels as though my lungs might give way," Peter said, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. "It is so cold. How could she still have cursed the land years after her death?"

No one answered the question, but in the silence he recalled the flickering memory that held the answer.

_The great Bird ruffled his feathers, clearly loathe to deliver this information to the three children who looked up at him with hopeful eyes. But he had a duty, both to the future Monarchs and to Aslan himself, and unpleasant thought it was, he could not delay._

_"I am sorry, your Majesties," he said, his voice a soft trill laden with grief. "I fear I have ill tidings of your brother."_

_"What... what do you mean?" Peter asked, his throat dry, his eyes filling with tears. He did not have to hear the answer, he could see it so clearly in the Bird's eyes. But he refused to believe anything until someone confirmed it, until he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that..._

_"Have you seen him?" Lucy asked, innocent eyes wide with a hope that Peter knew would soon crumble._

_"He is gone," the Bird replied simply, and a hush fell over everything._

_Aslan's camp, only moments before filled with the rush of noise and the chaotic preparations of war, was not still and quiet, waiting. Aslan, standing only a few feet behind Peter, lifted his head and surveyed the scene, before letting his gaze land on Oreius. The centaur general had lowered his head in despair._

_Peter saw all this, and felt a burst of defiance. "That cannot be true!"_

_"He fell off a great ice wall in the mountains beyond the Western Wood," the Bird replied simply. "It is a long fall, your Majesty. No one survives it."_

_"N-no..." Lucy's shaky sob jolted Peter, and he turned to his youngest sibling, pulling her into a tight embrace. Over her head, he caught Susan's eye, and noted that her face was already lined with tears. Like himself, she had anticipated the Bird's message long before it was spoken aloud._

_"Have you... did you find his... body?" Susan asked tentatively._

_The Bird cast her a slanted look, then said, "No. Fresh snow fell that night. We were unable to find much besides his tracks." As though realizing how harsh those words were, the Bird quickly added, "We tried, my Queen. We... we searched everywhere, but..." Again, the awkward silence._

_"How?" Lucy asked softly, pulling away from Peter and looking at the messenger. "How did he...?"_

_"We do not have the full details," the Bird answered slowly, "but my spies tell me that your brother tried to escape from her clutches, and..." he paused, then said delicately, "her Wolves came after him."_

_Peter had never felt so glad that he had killed the Wolf that attacked Susan and Lucy that morning. At that moment, he swore never to let a single Wolf pass through his domain without suffering the consequences of betraying a King of Narnia to his death. Then he turned to Susan, who had fallen to her knees, and Lucy, who was locked in her older sister's arms, and silently vowed to protect them with every ounce of his being, against all odds, and in defiance of any enemy._

_Oreius shuffled behind him. "Without the young King..." he said softly to Aslan, letting the rest of his words remain unsaid. But even in the silence, those implied words were heard so distinctly, so strongly, by Peter. _

_Without Edmund, there were no longer four children to sit on the thrones, to break the prophecy, to end Jadis' rein._

_Peter glanced over at Aslan as the Great Lion answered in a low growl, "I know."  
_

His musings were interrupted by a sound that broke through the air and sent chills down his spine, one he knew far too well.

A Wolf's howl.

They were well into the mountains now, having been hiking since first light. The camp, and the rest of his army, was far behind them, waiting for the return of the scouting team and the orders that would result from it. Peter narrowed his eyes fiercely, furiously.

The Wolf's cry was joined by the answering echo of several others.

The soldiers around him drew their swords and spears, strung their bows, and stared through the snow-covered trees, waiting. There was nothing in the air besides the smell of cold snow and the sound of the howls, and the overwhelming anticipation. They were a sea of identical faces, expression grim, ready for the battle that would soon come.

Only Philip seemed to betray any signs of unease. The Horse pawed the ground, hooves sinking deeply into the snow, and moved discreetly closer to Peter. There was no doubt in his mind about his actions; if the High King's recklessness put him in danger, the Horse would simply lift him into the air and carry him back to the safety of the camp. He was more than willing to suffer the displeasure and temper that would come from that, but he could not idly watch another monarch fall to the Witch and her army.

Oreius noted Philip's movements, guessed his intentions, and felt a little bit more at ease.

And then there was another sound, so completely unexpected that Peter gave a violent start. It was familiar in every way, and completely out a place.

It was the terrified shriek of a human.

"This way!" Oreius cried, pointing towards the sound. "It comes from this way." And he galloped through the snow, letting the others rush to keep up with his hasty charge.

They entered a clearing in the trees, a sort of glen that spread out along the steep incline of the mountain. The trees dropped back, moved away, and the yellow sun and blue sky shone brightly from high above. The ground, still covered in snow, was dotted with green bushes and a few hardy ferns that had managed to thrive despite the constant winter.

A young girl, perhaps Lucy's age, had backed up against the mountain cliff, her eyes a picture of fear, as a Wolf approached her with a vicious snarl.

"Please..." the girl whispered. "Don't hurt me."

"Hurt you?" the Wolf echoed, growling with delighted pleasure at her fright. "Oh, Daughter of Eve, I plan so much more than that." Again, the sound of howls filled the air, travelling on the wind, and the Wolf added, "Soon my brothers will join me here. Do not be so foolish as to think you can escape us."

"For Narnia!" Peter let loose his battle cry, leaping forward and thrusting his sword at the offending creature. The Wolf swung to face his attacker, barely managing to leap aside as the heavy blade sliced through the place he had stood moments before. The girl gave another shriek, then tried to scurry away, but the Wolf spun and pounced on her, knocking her to the ground. She screamed, and Peter raised his sword again.

"Don't," the Wolf warned, jaws snapping dangerously close to the girl's neck. Peter froze, and the Wolf continued, "You are alone, Son of Adam, save for your centaur and Horse friends. My brethren are taking care of your army even as we speak. Do you think you are strong enough to fight me? Do you think you can defeat me before I take her life?"

Peter turned sharply, and noted with horror that the Wolf was right. The rest of the scouting party was not behind him. Only Philip and Oreius flanked him on either side, and in the near distance he could hear the sounds of snarls and howls and the clash of steel and teeth against rock and bone.

The girl was sobbing silently, tears pouring from her blue eyes.

And, quite suddenly, another Wolf appeared. A cry, a wrenching howl filled with fury and pain, echoed in the air, reverberating among the trees, and the new Wolf lunged at his opponent, knocking him away from the girl, who promptly collapsed against the snow, unconscious. It was a savage fight between the Wolves, each going for the other's throats, claws scratching against the fur, blood spilling on the white snow. They were intertwined, so tightly locked together it was near impossible to see where one ended and the other began. The two Creatures were oblivious to anything around them except each other, the scent of blood, and the desperate need to survive.

The new Wolf, Peter saw, was partially shaved. His fur was neatly cut back in several places, evidence that he had been in the care of Healers. This alone gave Peter cause for confusion, particularly as the Wolf was also clearly defending the fallen blonde-haired girl. Why would a Fell Beast be interested in protecting a human?

Why was there a human in Narnia anyway?

Footsteps signalled the arrival of two others, and Peter spun his sword around, holding it in front of him. It was a man and a boy. The boy had dropped to his knees next to the girl, and was frantically pressing his hands into her arm, clearly looking for a pulse, breathing, any sign of life. Peter could not discern his features as the boy's dark hair hid his face from view, but the other man was facing the two fighting Wolves, eyes widened in horror and fear, fingers clenched tightly around a knife.

Peter looked back at the Wolves.

It happened in a moment. The new Wolf caught the other unawares, somehow gaining the upper hand, and bit deeply into his throat. There was a snarl, filled with fury, that melted into a gurgle as blood spilled across the ground and the other Wolf keeled over, dead.

The shaved Wolf straightened, clambering to his feet, and backing away from the dead Animal on the snow. He turned and looked at Peter, his eyes filled with bloodlust. There was nothing sane in them, nothing rational. All thought, all speech, seemed to be gone. The Wolf was pure beast. Mute, dumb, and vicious.

Oreius raised his bow.

"Veltra, stop."

The man spoke, his voice soft, but underlined with steel. The Wolf turned towards the sound, something flickering through his eyes.

"Stop," the man said again, and this time his command was harsher. "He's dead. That is enough."

The Wolf, Peter now determined his name was Veltra, seemed to sag under the weight of those words, as though not quite able to carry the heavy burden of that truth on his shoulders. But the rage was gone, fading until there was nothing left in those eyes but a dull emptiness.

He looked back at his victim. "He's dead," Veltra repeated, the words sounding haunted. "I _killed_ him." he took a faltering step towards the body, but the man interjected tersely

"Leave him."

Veltra swung his head back around, and then his gaze passed the other man and drifted to the two children. A new light, a rational, caring expression, appeared in his eyes. "Is she alright?" he asked worryingly, eyes fixed on the young girl.

The girl was sitting up now, shakily trying to pull herself to her feet with the help of the boy.

The boy looked up, attention focused on the Wolf. "She is fine, Veltra. Thank you."

Peter froze, mouth half open in shock. He heard Oreius moving to stand by his side, knew on some level that the General was waiting for him to make the first move. The girl and the man were both staring at him with warily questioning gazes. The tension in the air was palpable, the dead Wolf lying in between them as some sort of bad omen. The wind whistled suddenly through the trees, the cold air bit at his skin, chilling him to the bone. But he could do nothing except stare at the boy's face, at those hauntingly familiar gray eyes, and choke out a single word.

"...Edmund...?"


	6. Hallelujah

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: The unexpected reunion does not go well for Peter, and danger comes to the peaceful Village.

* * *

Chapter Five: Hallelujah

_I heard there was a secret chord,  
that David played and it pleased the Lord.  
But you don't really care for music,  
do you?  
It goes like this;  
the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift.  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah._

-Rufus Wainwright, "Hallelujah"

_The mountains beyond the Western Wood..._

The single word that escaped Peter's parted lips caused a sudden burst of activity from the others. The man shoved Edmund backwards and took a protective stance in front of the two children, and Oreius swung his head around sharply to stare questioningly at the High King. Philip frowned and gave Edmund a scrutinizing stare. The Wolf, Veltra, snarled at Peter, but made no move to leave Nasada's side.

Edmund himself just looked baffled.

"Do I know you?" he asked, and the question was like a dagger straight through Peter's heart.

"Ed, it's me. Peter." The High King took a hesitant step forward, and this time Veltra did move, baring his path. He turned disgusted eyes to the Wolf, but any move he could have made was interrupted by Edmund's soft voice, questioning in uncertainty.

"How do you know me?"

The man placed his hand on Edmund's shoulder, a protective gesture that did not go unnoticed by Peter. Turning to the High King, the man demanded in a cool tone, "Who are you? How do you know my son?" His eyes moved to

Oreius and Philip, and he added, "And who are they?"

"Your _son_?" Peter sputtered.

"Maybe we should return to the Village, Dar," Veltra suggested quietly. "It is not safe to linger in the woods." Then, with an annoyed glare for Edmund, he snapped, "And you are in so much trouble."

Edmund flushed a deep red and said quickly, "I had to come. The voice said I needed to follow it."

"The voice?" Nasada asked, pulling at a strand of blonde hair.

"Ed!" Peter interjected, refusing to wait patiently for his younger brother to face him again. He did not like the way the three interacted, he did not like the love and concern he could see in Edmund's eyes. How could he look at another family that way, and yet have no memory of his own brother?

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Edmund asked. "Was that my nickname from before?"

Peter, utterly flummoxed, said, "Ed, how can you not remember?"

"Perhaps it would be best if you introduced yourself, your Majesty," Philip suggested.

"Your Majesty?" Nasada echoed, lips parted in awe. "Are you a king?"

Dar's eyes became cold and hard and deadly. "Another White Witch?" he spat, and Veltra uttered a low growl.

"No! " Peter cried, shocked. "No, of course not. Aslan crowned me High King of Narnia after the defeat of the Witch. My sisters, Susan and Lucy, are Queens."

"Aslan crowned you?" Nasada said, still in that same tone of awe. "You've met Aslan? Oh, is he as wonderful as the stories say? Is he here? Can we meet him, too?" She took a few steps towards Peter, so excited that she barely realized that she was moving. But then Veltra cut in front of her, halting her advance, and she paused, looking slightly abashed.

"You say Aslan crowned you?" Dar asked, and his voice was laden with suspicious disbelief. "Why should we believe you? Perhaps this is just a trick of the Witch."

"Jadis is dead!" Oreius interrupted. "Dead and gone, thanks to the Great Lion."

"Is that how you know who I am?" Edmund asked innocently. "Did I work for you in your castle, your Majesty? Or was I..." his expression twisted with distaste, "in your army?"

Peter gaped. "Edmund, you're my _brother_!"

It was at precisely at that moment that all hell broke loose, and chaos reigned again.

* * *

_Nearby in the mountains beyond the Western Wood, a few minutes earlier..._

Cheek, who had sunk nearly to his shoulders in the soft snow, tried in vain to stab his sword at the nearest Wolf. Although he was quite a bit taller than normal mice, he was still by far the shortest of the talking Creatures that fought in High King Peter's army, and it gave him a great disadvantage.

The Wolf snapped his jaws and licked his lips, advancing on Cheek.

Before anything could happen to the Mouse, however, the sun was blotted out by the great wingspan of a giant Eagle, which swooped down and lifted Cheek clear from the snowy prison.

"Let me go, you feathered menace! Put me down this instant!"

The eagle complied, dropping Cheek onto his tail on a rocky outcropping behind the Wolves. In an injured tone, the Eagle said pointedly, "I was only saving you from certain death. Would you have preferred to be eaten?"

"I was winning! I could have slain the Beast!" Cheek protested.

The Eagle ruffled his wings and said in a superior manner, "If you insist on being delusional, Master Mouse, I will not stop you."

Cheek huffed in impatience, and turned back towards the battle. From his vantage point on the rocks, he could easily see that the Wolves were gaining the upper hand. And yet, he could not determine why. The Wolves were still outnumbered, and though they might be vicious fighters, the scouts were fierce as well. With a frown, the Mouse let his gaze wander as his mind worked over the various possibilities. Some kind of magic watching over them, perhaps? Or...

"The trees!" he cried suddenly, his high-pitched squeak heard by everyone in the battle below. "The trees are on Her side!"

Sure enough, the trees were moving, surrounding the scouts, offering sanctuary to the Wolves and preventing the others any way of escape. It had grown dark quite suddenly as the branches tangled overhead, blocking out any sign of the sun. The blue sky, moments before a friendly sight, was all but obscured by the growing darkness and the air was filled with the dank smell of war and blood.

"We must find the High King!" a voice cried, rising up from the melee. "The trees will harm him!"

"South," another cried. "He went south, with Philip and Oreius."

The battle shifted, the scouts loosing interest in the Wolves as they realized the danger their king would most likely be facing. Alone, with only two others to support him, in a dangerous and unknown mountain range, where even the trees had turned against him... A mass of Animals rushed into the thickets, pushing through the trees that tried to snatch at them even as they broke free, intent on finding their king.

Cheek hopped down to the ground and followed the others, and the Eagle took flight and winged its way above the treetops, scanning the forest for any sign of the missing king.

The Wolves, enraged that their quarry had simply turned away from them, gave chase, snapping at the heels of the other Animals and howling into the wind.

It was this chaos that stumbled across the frozen tableau of Peter, hands outstretched towards Edmund in a pleading manner, while the younger boy stared in dumbstruck horror at the older king.

Veltra was the first to respond, and he burst into the fray, growling dangerously at the other Wolves. Dar followed a moment later, shoving Nasada backwards and calling in fear for her to remain hidden and silent. Edmund rushed to defend his sister, having little more than his own fists to fight with, but Peter, intent on protecting Edmund, joined him in front of Nasada with a sword outstretched, and Philip and Oreius both came to their senses quickly and followed the others into the fight.

It was brief. The reappearance of the High King seemed to turn the tide away from the Wolves, and even the trees appeared more hesitant to join the battle. The sight of the slain Wolf still stretched out across the snow, red blood seeping into the white, seemed to drain some of the Wolves' courage, and they fell back with every passing moment. Soon, they were forced to turn tail and flee, but not before sending a few warning howls into the air, promises that they would return to seek vengeance.

A few of the scouts were injured, but only one dead. Oreius bent his head over the Cat's body and intoned a quick prayer to Aslan while the others tended to their wounded. They would bury the Cat here and have a proper ceremony when they returned to Cair Paravel, where the other monarchs and the rest of the army would be able to join in the rituals.

Peter paid little attention to this, but turned back to Edmund. The boy was still standing slightly behind Dar, but the frank curiosity that had been on his face moments ago was now replaced by a look of distress and pain, and his eyes were slowly wandering over the blood-red snow. Dar, too, was upset by the sight of the fighting, but his expression was mixed with relief as he looked over at Nasada and determined that she was uninjured.

"Edmund?" Peter said. Edmund snapped his head up towards Peter, eyes wide, and said nothing. Peter continued hesitantly, "Do you remember Dad going to war? And Mum sending us to the Professor's house? Lucy finding Narnia through the wardrobe? And the Beavers? Don't you remember any of that?"

A few of the scouts looked up, recognizing the name Edmund and knowing from Peter's tone that something strange and unexpected and truly miraculous must have happened. A murmur ran through them, and then the hesitant questions of "King Edmund?" and "Is that your brother, Sire?" followed.

Edmund started. "King?" he asked, shaking his head incredulously. "Did they just call me King?"

"That's what you are, Ed," Peter said, tears of helplessness filling his eyes. "A king. Like me. Don't you know that? Don't you remember the prophecy?"

Veltra tilted his head up towards Dar with a questioning stare. Dar shrugged, having no insights to share. He, too, was confused as to why Peter was convinced that Edmund was a king, but if this Peter truly was chosen by Aslan to rule, then he was sure there would be a good explanation for all of this. After all, when was Aslan ever wrong about something or someone?

"I can't be a king," Edmund protested, refusing to accept Peter's words, viewing them as far too preposterous to make any sense. "I am too young." After a moment's pause, he added, "You are too young as well. How can you be a high king?"

"The High King," Oreius corrected automatically.

"Lucy is even younger than you, and she's a Queen," Peter replied, a little more sharply than he had intended. His age, and the age of his sisters, had been a point of contention among the visiting monarchs and nobility from the bordering realms. They were quite often underestimated because they were so young, and he did not like reminders of that. But the look of hurt that flashed through Edmund's face was enough to remind him that this was not an intolerable guest, but his own brother, and the comment had not been intended as a slight.

"Who is Lucy?" Dar demanded.

"My sister," Peter answered vaguely, still to busy staring at Edmund to think of much else. "Susan, too."

"Susan and Lucy," Edmund said softly, rolling the names around in his head and letting them slip off his tongue. "Lucy and Susan."

"Do you remember them?" Peter asked hopefully. "Susan... well, now she's Queen Susan the Gentle. She is the mothering type. Sometimes it can be annoying," he paused, a faded smile on his lips, "but she is so kind. And patient. She has more patience than I ever will, I suppose. And Lucy. Queen Lucy the Valiant. She's younger than you, Ed, by two years. She's the one who found Narnia, during a game of hide-and-seek. We did not believe her at first, but she was adamant about it." Peter shook his head fondly, thinking of his family. "And then we came into Narnia, and Jadis..." He stopped abruptly and shook his head. Giving Edmund a pleading stare, he nearly begged, "Don't you remember _any_ of it?"

And Edmund answered truthfully, "No."

* * *

_Cair Paravel, same time..._

Susan awoke in her bed with a violent start. She looked around the room for a moment, instinctively turning towards the window that faced the sea. She could not remember what exactly had happened to cause such a drastic awakening. A dream, perhaps?

"Susan?" Lucy poked her head through the open door, face extraordinarily pale. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," Susan answered, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"You were screaming," Lucy answered, coming into the room. Behind her, Susan caught a glimpse of a few others in the hallway, milling about in concern for her wellbeing. But Lucy gave them all a smile and a brief shake of the head, before closing the door behind her.

"Screaming?" Susan repeated.

"A nightmare, maybe?" Lucy suggested.

"Perhaps," Susan agreed slowly. "I am not sure."

"You do not remember any of it?" Lucy asked as she climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Susan.

"No." Susan scooted over as she sat up, giving Lucy more room to stretch out. She idly played with a few pieces of her silken hair as she added, "Maybe it was nothing."

Lucy did not look convinced, but replied nonetheless, "Maybe."

Susan leaned back against the cushions propped up along the headboard and closed her eyes. The bright sun still poured through the open window, and a gentle breeze filled the air with the salty smell of the sea. She had been plagued with headaches all morning, and had finally given in to Lucy's pestering request that she lie down for a little while. Sleep had been a blessing, relief for her pounding head, but now that she was awake, she felt even worse.

Still, determined not to upset Lucy by complaining about her own pains, she said cheerfully, "What have you been doing while I was asleep, Lu?"

Lucy began to prattle on about her late morning activities, but Susan found her attention wandering. She could not focus on her sister's words, try as she might. Instead, she felt a chill in the air and something tugged against her consciousness, like a dream begging to be remembered.

She just wished she knew what it was.

* * *

_The Village, a few hours later..._

Peter was a little unsure how things had managed to slip out of his control. Veltra had barked that they all needed to return to the Village where it was safer, and because Dar had agreed, Edmund had simply followed the Wolf away from his brother. Peter, not wanting to lose sight of his precious brother, hurried after them, whether he was welcome or not. His departure, in turn, caused Oreius to follow, and soon the entire scouting party was tramping through the mountains, following Veltra to what he assumed was Edmund's new home.

So here they were, standing in the middle of the Village, being stared at with open curiosity by the Villagers. Dar was talking in a low voice to someone who might have been a chief of sorts, and Veltra was growling explanations to a few other Wolves who had slunk into the Village at the first sign of the strangers. An older woman was fussing over Nasada, alternating between what was clearly expressions of relief and stern reprimands.

Edmund stood a little apart from the others, staring at Peter with a frank openness.

Peter studied Edmund carefully, ignoring the looks he was getting from Oreius and Philip. This Edmund was so unlike the brother he remembered. There was a self-assuredness about this youth, mixed with a carefree lightness that surfaced whenever he spoke to the Wolf. His obvious confusion had not lead him into fear or sulking, but rather into a honest curiosity that had not graced Edmund's face since before the war in England, before Edmund had gone to the horrible school with those horrible bullies.

Peter shook his head. If only he had been able to save Edmund from that school. Why hadn't he paid more attention to his brother's plight? Why hadn't he intervened? He had no protected his brother in England, had not protected him here. If he had just been a little more aware, would he have this happy and mature Edmund by his side instead of a complete stranger? Would all those fights have never happened? Would Edmund not have been drawn into Jadis' web of lies and trickery?

Edmund, for his part, was lost in his own thoughts, his own memories. He remembered nothing from before the Village, nothing of this boy-king who called himself a brother. Even his earliest memories shed no light on this, none at all. It was nothing more than a muddled fog of thoughts.

_Everything hurt. _

_It was really the only thought that entered Edmund's head as he blinked into the early morning light. He did not know where he was, or what had happened to him. He looked to be in the middle of a ravine. To one side, a large ice wall extended towards the sky and out of sight. He was half-buried in the soft snow which how now turned red with his blood. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but his legs nearly gave way beneath him, and he crumpled into a heap.  
_

_He squinted, barely picking out the shapes of trees all around him. His vision was hazy, blurry, and his head throbbed with a rising intensity that made him want to close his eyes and fall back into a deep sleep.  
_

_He was cold.  
_

_Pulling himself unsteadily to his feet and leaning heavily against the wall, he managed to take a few steps before his weight was too heavy to bear. He fell to his knees again, but continued on, crawling, nearly sinking into the snow, scraping his hands on rocks and sticks.  
_

_He did not no how long he carried on in this manner. Eventually the ground sloped uphill, and then became so steep it was nearly impassible. He gasped for breath, fighting against the pain in his head and and chest, the ache in his muscles, and the freezing cold. He was desperate to go forward, although he did not know why. He just knew that he needed to keep moving, needed to find someone or something. A presence seemed to linger just beyond his consciousness, tugging at his thoughts, shoving him, pushing him, pulling him, forcing him to just keep moving, keep fighting, keep trying to stay alive.  
_

_Eventually, his legs gave out completely, and he fell on his stomach into the ground.  
_

_"Get up, child," a voice said, perhaps an echo in his own head. "Keep moving."  
_

_He tried to follow it, tried to obey the order. He wasn't sure if it was female or male. Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. It was gentle and harsh and coaxing and demanding all at once, and all he wanted was to obey. But his body could not follow the orders, no matter how much his mind wanted to, and he only made it a few more halting feet before darkness pulled him down.  
_

_When he woke again, he was warm, and his first thought was that he had died, and this was the afterlife. But then he heard the voices.  
_

_"...find him?"  
_

_"I was in the mountains. Nearly to the Cauldron Pool."  
_

_Edmund tried to open his eyes, but couldn't.  
_

_"Why in Aslan's name would you venture that far North? You nearly left the mountains, Veltra! You know the dangers."  
_

_"I had to. I just... I felt that I had to. Something pulled me that way. I can't explain it."  
_

_It was the last Edmund heard before he was fast asleep once more.  
_

_The next time he awoke, he forced his eyes open, but found himself staring at the empty air. There was a ceiling above him, and a soft bed below him, but when he tried to turn on his side, he found he lacked the strength.  
_

_Two people were talking, just out of his line of sight.  
_

_"A human? Veltra found a real Son of Adam in the mountains?" That was a woman's voice.  
_

_"Yes, Sera," was the reply. And it was from a man. "He believes some magic called him out there, out to where the lad was."  
_

_"Aslan?"  
_

_"Or some deeper magics."  
_

_Edmund closed his eyes. The name Aslan sounded familiar, although he could not place it. He wondered where he was, but for some strange reason, he felt safe among these people he did not know.  
_

_When he opened his eyes again, time had passed, and a blonde girl, perhaps a few years younger than him, was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him with bright blue eyes. She started when she saw he was awake, but then a broad smile spread across her lips.  
_

_"You're awake!"  
_

_"Who are you?" Edmund asked, his voice a dry rasp.  
_

_"Nasada," the girl answered. She frowned at him, then added, "You need some water. Let me fetch you something to drink."  
_

_"Is he awake, Nasada?" a voice growled, and a Wolf suddenly strolled into the room and placed his paws on the edge of Edmund's bed. "Hello, Son of Adam," the Wolf said, jagged teeth showing when he spoke.  
_

_"The Wolf talks!" Edmund cried, trying to move away from the Creature.  
_

_Nasada gave him an odd look as she handed him a stone cup filled with water. "Of course he speaks, silly. He's a Wolf. With a capital W."  
_

_The Wolf turned to Nasada. "I'll get your parents and Jaxom," he offered, then turned and walked from the room, tail swishing back and forth. Edmund watched him go for a moment, then fell back against the cushions, exhausted. The water helped ease the pain in his throat, but the rest of him still hurt badly. He could see that his body was wrapped up in bandages, and he wondered just how badly he had been injured.  
_

_"What is you name?" Nasada asked eagerly as she sat by him once again.  
_

_"Edmund," he managed to croak.  
_

_"That's a silly name," Nasada said cheerfully. "But I like it. Where are you from, Edmund?"_

_Edmund blinked, faltering. "I... I don't know."_

Edmund looked over at Dar and Jaxom. They were still talking in hushed whispers, but now the rest of the Village had appeared.

"What did you mean, when you said you had to go?" Veltra asked, appearing at his side and giving him a scrutinizing look. "Earlier, in the clearing. You told me that a voice called you. What did you mean by that?"

Edmund hesitated. "The trees attacked, and this voice called. A woman. Sweet and tempting. She wanted me to follow her. But then... I heard something. Like a... a giant noise. A call. A roar. And then another voice told me to follow it. That I was needed elsewhere." He gave a little shrug, attempting to justify his actions with nonchalance.

Veltra frowned. "It is not the first time you have heard voices, Edmund," Veltra said softly.

But Edmund shook his head. "The voice that called me here, it was different. Older and deeper and more... Oh, I can't explain it, Veltra. It felt different." After a moment, he added thoughtfully, "And yet, I suppose, a bit the same. Like the way Nasada sounds like Mother. The same, but not quite."

Veltra was silent, musing over his revelation. He was about to say more, but Peter chose that moment to join them.  
"Ed? Is this where you live?"

Edmund, still uncomfortable around his stranger, forced himself to remain calm and collected as he answered, "Yes. My hut is near the center of our Village."

Peter swallowed nervously. "With... with Dar and Nasada?"

"And Sera," Edmund answered instinctively, nodding towards his mother who was still scolding Nasada for rushing into the woods.

"Oh." Peter looked so forlorn at the answer that Edmund felt a little bit of guilt. He squelched the feeling, though, because it made no sense. What did he have to feel guilty for?

Peter kept his arms tightly by his side, afraid that if he moved them he might lose control and fiercely embrace his brother. He longed to do that, but the look in Edmund's eyes held him back. This boy did not know him, and would most certainly not react favorably to a display of affection from a stranger. Already, he was appearing nervous around the others.

"How did you... end up here?" Peter asked finally.

"Veltra says the Deep Magic brought me," Edmund answered softly. "I do not remember what happened before I woke up at the ice cliff."

"The one that the Wolves chased you too?" Peter questioned, probing for details. He wanted to know everything, wanted to know exactly why his brother had been torn away from him. An anger bubbled in his stomach as he wondered to himself why Aslan would have allowed something like this to happen. He was the Great Lion, how could he not know?

"The Wolves?" Edmund repeated with a puzzled look. "Which Wolves?"

"Jadis' Wolves," Peter answered bitterly. "They chased you to the cliff. You fell..." He stopped sharply and looked away.

"He could not have fallen from the great ice wall," a voice interjected, and Peter glanced at the man who was approaching. "No one falls from that cliff, and lives."

Peter narrowed his eyes at the other man, unused to being spoken to in such a manner. Where was the reverence and respect he had so grown accustomed to in his time as High King? "Well, Ed did," he snapped back sharply.

The man glanced at Edmund. "I see," he said noncommittally, but Peter had the feeling that he half-believed the story. "I suppose it is possible," the man said finally, acquiescing with a nod. "Strange things do happen around Edmund." He turned back to Peter. "I am Jaxom. I understand you claim to be High King Peter, defeater of Queen Jadis?"

That caused a hush in the village, which then turned into a murmur of incredulity rising from every person. "Jadis is _dead_?"

Peter folded his arms over his chest and answered Jaxom coolly, "I do not claim to be that. I am that." Then he amended his early statement and added, "It was actually Aslan who defeated Jadis. I helped. I led the battle against her." Slanting a look at the Villagers, he asked, "How can you not know that Jadis is dead?"

"We have no contact with the land beyond the mountains," Jaxom explained. "We know only of Jadis due to what she did to us a hundred years ago. But some wounds do not easily heal." He nodded to the scouting party and offered, "Come. Our Healers will tend to your injuries, and then we will talk. I sense that we both have stories to share."

Peter was a little unnerved by their hospitality. Dar had seemed so suspicious of him, but the others in the Village smiled warmly, welcoming them. There was some awe in their eyes and bewilderment voices, but they were kind and polite. It was strange, how quickly they trusted him and adapted themselves to his presence.

Veltra, as though reading the High King's thoughts, said, "It is how we survive, Son of Adam. We do not fight, not like you and your army. We have not met those who mean us harm in over a hundred years. All we have are ancient memories, and they fade over time. The people here will find it inconceivable that any could wish us ill."

"But... you are a Wolf!" Cheek interjected, giving Veltra a cold stare. "How could they trust you? Why would they wish to?"

Veltra bared his teeth. "Why not?"

"Enough," Edmund said softly. "Jaxom wishes to speak with these strangers. Let us speak with him, then."

As they followed Jaxom through the snow, Philip lowered his head towards Oreius and murmured, "I count six Wolves, two Minotaurs, a Harpy, and three other Fell Cats And fifty-four humans. Possibly more within the huts."

Oreius nodded. "It is a wonder they have remained hidden for so long."

"It is a wonder they have not seen war in over a hundred years," Philip answered. "They have no fear of these Fell Beasts. They do not know what their kind did to Narnia." He paused, then added, "But perhaps the Wolf was right. Perhaps there is no reason to fear the Fell Beasts. They do not seem to mean the Villagers harm."

Oreius answered grimly, "We shall see."

Peter lead the procession that followed Jaxom, with Philip and Oreius behind. Cheek and the rest of the scouts hurried to keep up, but paused once or twice to smile back at the friendly Villagers. Only Dar seemed upset by the presence of the High King, and his wife too seemed a little worried, although she had yet to speak to any of them. She kept her gaze on Edmund, and in her eyes was reflected her understanding that all was about to change.

Veltra met Sera's gaze, and knew her fears. But he knew, also, that if Edmund was intended for a different destiny, it was not wise to stand in his way. It would hurt them all to see him go, of course, but they had little choice. The Magic of the Deep had brought the lad here, but Aslan himself had called him back into the mountains, back to this new High King. It seemed as though he was meant for something larger than this little Village.

But Edmund, it was clear, did not want to leave, and neither did Sera or Dar want him to go. Nasada, too, would be hurt once she realized what this meant for her beloved older brother.

The Wolf paused, pulling Edmund back with a pointed look. The young boy stopped to listen, and Veltra jerked his head towards Peter and said in a low voice, "The Deep Magics have spoken to you, Edmund. And Aslan has spoken as well. You would do well to listen to what they have to say."


	7. Stay

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Author's note: I give some history in this chapter. Most of it is take from the Wikipedia sites on Narnia, and so I hope it is correct. Some of it is altered or embellished to fit the needs of my story. However, I do believe it is, for the most part, accurate, and if there are any mistakes, blame Wikipedia. Or me for not having the patience to hunt through the books for clues.

Summary: Stories are told, a history unravels, and Edmund faces two diverging roads.

* * *

Chapter Six: Stay

_You said,  
"I caught you 'cause I want you and one day I'll let you go."  
You try to give away a keeper,  
Or keep me 'cause you know you're just so scared to lose.  
And you say,  
"Stay."  
You say I only hear what I want to._

- Lisa Loeb, "Stay"

_The Village, late afternoon..._

"So... who are you all?" Peter asked as he settled himself in a seat around the table. Oreius was standing behind him, and Philip paced to and fro outside the door to the hut. Sera and Dar sat across from him, with Edmund in between them. Jaxom sat to his right, and two others he did not recognize to his left. The Wolf, Veltra, lay at Edmund's feet, half-hidden by the table, ears perked to attention. The rest of the scouting party appeared content to wait outside, receiving medical treatment and food and water from the kind-hearted Villagers. Cheek, under Peter's orders, had gathered a few uninjured scouts, and returned to the woods, keeping watch against any dangerous Fell Beasts that might appear.

"We are Villagers," Sera replied mockingly.

Jaxom shot her a warning look, then turned to Peter and elaborated, "We are remnants of the first King and Queen of Narnia."

"King Frank and Queen Helen?" Peter asked curiously. He had heard the legends of Narnia from many of the castle scholars, but found he knew little about the two first rulers. The history concerning their lives had always been blurry and contradictory. However, one aspect of their lives had always been clear, and it now belied the inaccuracy of Jaxom's claim. "But they have no descendants."

"No Narnian ones, to be sure," Jaxom agreed. "But his Majesty King Frank and her Majesty Queen Helen had children. Of these children, there was one in particular who I am sure you have heard of. Col."

"The second son of King Frank and Queen Helen," Peter agreed, "who became the first king of Archenland. I have heard stories of him. We are trying to improve relations with Archenland, and it helps that the descendants of our first king and queen now rule there." His eyes drifted to Edmund, but the boy refused to meet his brother's gaze, and stared instead at Jaxom.

"Would you like to hear our story, your Majesty, High King Peter?" the woman sitting to Peter's immediate left asked.

"Do tell," Peter drawled.

The woman glanced quickly at Jaxom. "Go ahead, Artemis," he murmured.

"Well, it was a very long time ago, your Majesty, High King Peter," Artemis explained. "For many years, our families lived in Narnia. We grew and prospered, became great in number. The tenth king of Narnia, King Gale, slew the dragon who terrorized the Lone Islands, and he became the Emperor there. You have heard that story, have you not?"

"I have not," Peter replied, perplexed. "Is that how the Lone Islands became part of Narnia?"

Jaxom frowned and said quietly, and with displeasure, "How much of history was lost due to the Witch. If she is well and truly gone, you have our thanks for that."

"The people of the Lone Islands were so thankful for what King Gale had done, that they offered their own lands in gratitude," Artemis explained. "After he defeated the dragon," she continued the story once more, "he road to Archenland to meet with the King there, to offer assistance to the land. They were being attacked, you must understand, by outlaws who had traveled South across the Great Desert that boarders Archenland. These outlaws founded the land of Calormen. From there, they frequently launched offensives against Archenland, and King Gale, who you will remember came from the same bloodline at the rulers of Archenland, naturally wanted to offer assistance."

"He was lost along the journey," Jaxom interjected, picking up the story. "He died somewhere in these mountains, although by what we do not know. We blamed them, and they cried their innocence. Perhaps we were wrong, perhaps they were wrong. I do not know. But after that, relations between the two countries turned sour, and we did not hear from our Archenland brethren again."

"So that is how the rift began between our two lands," Peter mused. "I did not know."

"The Witch rewrote history," Edmund offered, and eyes turned towards him. He did not look away from Peter this time, but instead continued, "For her own ends, she rewrote what had happened. Much was lost because of her."

Peter stared hard at Edmund. "Yes," he agreed emphatically, "but we can find it again," and this time his younger brother did lower his eyes as he caught the hidden meaning in those words.

Sera placed her hand over Edmund's, the gentle pressure reminding him that he was not alone. Peter did not miss the gesture, but chose not to comment on it, though the anger bubbled inside him. He should be the one providing the comfort, not some stranger pretending to be family.

"What happened next, and why is this important to your tale?" Peter asked finally, sharply.

"Jadis came," Jaxom replied, and here his voice was tight and filled with bitter anger. "Jadis came. It was hundreds of years later, and we knew nothing of Archenland and could not prevail on them for help. She came, and she attacked us, terrified as she was of all Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve. Our families fled, but not before she had killed our last monarchs and butchered many of our people." His words were uncharacteristically harsh, and the others flinched.

"I _am_ sorry," Oreius said, and Peter started, having nearly forgotten the centaur general.

The man next to Artemis looked up and said, "Aren't we all, General? Aren't we all?"

Jaxom inclined his head. "True, Garin."

"How did you escape the Witch?" Peter asked.

Garin answered in a grating voice, retelling the history that had been passed down through the generations, "Our families fled first to Owlwood, but Jadis' Wolves found us. Another brutal battle followed, and many died. Once again, we were forced to flee. The same happened, a repeat of history, when we sought sanctuary in the hills near Ettinsmoor. The Witch found us everywhere we went. She hated us so, although we do not know why."

"The prophecy," Peter murmured. All Narnians knew of it, but perhaps that knowledge had only occurred after Jadis' reign. After all, what need would they have of a prophecy bringing about the end of an evil that had not yet invaded? Jaxom gave him a look, but he ignored it, deciding not to speak on this subject. He had no desire to reveal the truth until he had the opportunity to speak to Edmund privately, and was convinced that his brother would not panic at the revelations.

"We fled again to the Lantern Waste," Artemis continued. "But when the Witch created her great ice castle, we were afraid. Our families were little, so few that we could not have survived another battle. It was then that we remembered Archenland, and thought perhaps we could entreat them, beg their help. So we traveled further south, past the Cauldron Pool and into these mountains. But we became lost, unable to find our way. We finally simply settled here, convinced that we would be safe. And then a hundred years past, and the old generation died. A new set of leaders took their place, and then another set. And so we live here now, in happiness and in peace. But we have not forgotten Jadis. We never will."

"No one in Narnia will," Oreius agreed in his low, reverberating voice. "I am deeply sorry for your loss and your hardships."

Jaxom rose to his feet and took a few steps away from the table, his back to the others. "There were so few who settled here. Small families, small numbers. It is a miracle we survived, but the legends tell us that we had help. We stumbled upon this place as though we were drawn to it." He glanced at Edmund, and added, "As Edmund did."

"Drawn to it?" Peter asked quickly, turning to Edmund. "What does he mean, Ed?"

The familiarity of his tone bothered Edmund, but the boy answered steadily enough, "When I awoke in the ravine, injured and perhaps dying, the magics lead me here."

"Magics," Peter said quietly. "Like Aslan?"

"Something deeper," Jaxom answered for him as Edmund lapsed into an uneasy silence. "Those deeper magics have always been interested in Edmund." He turned back to Peter. "We have told you our story, High King Peter. Will you now tell us yours?"

Peter acquiesced and began, "Susan, Edmund, Lucy and I all come from a different land." He saw Edmund's eyes widen, and then darken just as quickly. Sera's fingers, still resting gently on Edmund's hand, tightened slightly, turning white. "And... well, in this other land, there was a war. And we were sent away to stay with a friend of our mother's. And at this friend's house, we found a crack between the worlds in an old wardrobe. That's how we came to Narnia."

"I see," Jaxom said, although it was very plain that he did not quite understand.

Peter frowned, exhaling slowly. He was not doing a very good job of telling this story, he thought to himself. But Lucy was the storyteller in the family, able to captivate an audience with even the more dull of tales. As he tried to put his past into words, he found it became muddled and unclear.

"And... Edmund was captured by the White Witch." A gasp rose through the room, and both Sera and Artemis paled. Jaxom and Dar exchanged uneasy looks, and Veltra let out a low growl. Peter hurried on, "We tried to save him. We went to Aslan for help. But... well, Edmund escaped from the Witch and ran through the Western Woods. But the Wolves..." here, he sent Veltra a distrusting and furious glare, "came after him. He was attacked, and he fell of the ice cliff. We all thought he was dead."

"He should be," Garin muttered. "No one falls off that and lives."

Peter nodded, overcome by emotion as he remembered those first few trying days after the announcement of Edmund's death. His shoulders shook with tiny tremors as he said, "We fought the Witch. She was killed in the battlefield at Beruna. And then my sisters and I took the thrones at Cair Paravel." He reached across the table and caught Edmund's hand before the other boy could pull away. The hand was warm and real and Peter nearly burst into tears. "There's a fourth throne, Ed," he managed to gasp. "It waits for you."

Edmund yanked his hand away from Peter and pushed his chair back in a hasty effort to rise. The chair rocked back and skidded, toppling over onto the ground. But Edmund paid it no heed. His expression, nearly pleading, grew even more desperate as he stammered, "My throne? How... I mean... I... I cannot be a king!"

"You are, Ed. You can't escape that," Peter said firmly, drawing his hand back.

"But... but..." Edmund shook his head rapidly, fiercely. "You must have mistaken me with someone else, King Peter. I... I am no king. I cannot be your brother."

Peter rose as well, his face a picture of heartbreak at Edmund's denial. But a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and Oreius interrupted the proceedings.

"Sit down, King Edmund, and King Peter will explain more of it. This is quite a shock, I know, and you must want answers."

Edmund pulled his chair back up to the table, and sank slowly into his seat, while Peter reluctantly did the same. Now was not a good time to cause trouble, and it was clear that Edmund was already facing quite a bit of confusion and grief over this revelation. Peter let out a breath and resolved to approach the situation in a gentler manner.

"So... Jadis is truly dead?" Dar asked, speaking up for the first time since the meeting had begun. His question was directed towards Oreius, not Peter, and he barely spared the High King a single glance.

"Yes. Aslan and our Majesties defeated her."

The older man slanted a look at Edmund, and then turned to his wife. Sera looked thunderous at the news, but underneath the anger was the tiniest thread of relief. Jadis was dead.

"And these Fell Beasts in the mountains. The ones who attacked. What do they want?" Sera asked in a clipped tone.

"I do not know," Peter admitted reluctantly. "We believe them to be remnants of the Witch's army. Whatever their intentions, if they've sided with Her, they must wish us all harm." He looked at Edmund for a moment, then added, "Perhaps they learned of your survival."

"How could they?" Jaxom countered. "How could anyone know who he is? Edmund himself does not even know who he is."

Peter had to agree with the point of that particular question. He looked up at Oreius, and the General entered the conversation once more.  
"Whatever their intentions, these Beasts and Creatures will be stopped."

"Edmund, if you come back to Cair Paravel, it will help us. We can fight them better with you by our side and on your rightful thrown," Peter began eagerly, forgetting his early resolution to not scare off his brother.

Edmund rose once again, and this time offered no verbal protests. Instead, he turned and walked out of the hut, unable to hear this anymore.

Peter jumped to his feet and rushed out after his brother. Sera and Dar rose as well, but Jaxom stopped them before they could follow their son and prevent his conversation with the High King.

"Edmund needs help! I have to go..." Sera gestured towards the door, her eyes filled with tears of frustration for the painful bewilderment she had seen reflected in Edmund's gray eyes. "The High King is upsetting him."

Jaxom gave a weary sigh, feeling suddenly very old and unfit. "I know, Sera," he said gently, sympathetically. "But we both know how this must end."

Outside, Peter pushed past a puzzled Philip and found his brother's shadow disappearing into the swirling mist of suddenly falling snow. He raced after the fading silhouette, pushing through the soft, fresh snow in an effort not to lose sight of the one sibling he thought he had lost forever.

"Ed, wait!"

"Stop calling me that," Edmund said, turning around and glaring at Peter while he waited for the other to catch up. "My name is Edmund."

Peter found himself apologizing vaguely while studying Edmund's expression carefully. It was the first flare of anger he had seen since stumbling across his brother in the woods, and it made the boy suddenly so recognizable. He nearly expected Edmund to start shouting that he wasn't Dad and to stop acting like it. A wave of hope rushed through him. He could still see his Edmund in this stranger, and maybe that was enough. Maybe it would all work out for them both.

Edmund looked up at the mountains surrounding the Village. "Why do you insist that I am your brother?"

"Because you are, Edmund!" Peter replied firmly. "By the Lion, do you know what it did to us when we thought you were dead? Do you have any idea how it tore us all apart inside? There were days when I thought Lucy would never smile again, times when Susan cried so much all her tears ran dry. I... Eddy, we need you!"

_"Susan, what are you doing?" Peter demanded, shoving the door to her bedroom wide open and striding towards her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding out several different pieces of jewelry, clearly trying to decide what to wear. She looked up, eyes tenderly smiling, but Peter was too enraged to notice.  
_

_"What do you mean?" she asked gently.  
_

_"This planning!" Peter hissed. It was their first year as monarchs, their first year at Cair Paravel. Susan had become instantly renowned for her cheerful galas and parties, for all the celebrations she insisted their subjects needed to forget the Witch and her legacy. And Peter had understood that this was important to her as well, important because it was the only way she could keep her mind off Edmund and present herself as calm and collected to all their visitors. So he had rather impatiently allowed her to do as she pleased.  
_

_But this was going too far.  
_

_"Well, a birthday party requires a lot of planning," Susan reasoned, although her voice was now starting to shake. "But it's alright, Peter. I am handling all the preparations, so you do not need to do anything."  
_

_"No, I don't need to do anything," Peter agreed. "Because we are not having this party!"  
_

_Susan pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, annoyance showing plainly on her face. "And why not?" she asked dangerously. "We had parties for your birthday, Peter. And for Lucy. And for me. Why not for-"  
_

_"Because he's dead!" Peter exploded, cutting her off before she could utter their missing sibling's name. "He's dead and gone, and you are turning this into a mockery! Why would we celebrate? How can we possibly be happy when he is not here with us?"  
_

_Susan rose to her feet, her normally pale face splotched red with anger. "They have not found his body, Peter," she whispered.  
_

_"He's dead," Peter said again, although he knew perfectly well that he would continue searching for Edmund's body for as long as necessary.  
_

_"Fine," Susan snapped. "He's dead. But I won't forget him, Peter! Not the way you do. I won't go about the castle as though everything is fine. I won't ignore his birthday. He was our brother, and we are going to celebrate the day he was born because his life deserves celebration!"  
_

_Peter reeled back at her words, as though she had physically attacked him. He looked positively ill, and felt even worse.  
_

_"Is that what you think of me, Su? That I do not care about him? That I am not grieving? That this doesn't threaten to destroy me every day I stare at his empty thrown? I could not save him! I tried. I would have given anything in the world, even my own life, just to keep him from the Witch's grasp, but I let him go. I let him walk right into danger, and now he's dead! I was harsh, I was hard on him. This is all my fault! Do you really think I do not care?"  
_

_"Then how can you stand there and say that we should not celebrate his birthday?" Susan yelled, temper flaring. She was Queen Susan the Gentle, but the gentleness would quickly disappear at any perceived slight to a sibling. Including Edmund.  
_

_"Because it hurts! Because I failed! Because..." And then the words were lost, becoming indistinguishable as he burst into violent sobs of anguish, sinking onto the bed next to his sister. He felt her arms wrap around him, soothing him. Heard her voice whispering in his ear. He clung to her, tightly, as though afraid that if he let go, she would slip through his fingers and fade from his life.  
_

_Like Edmund had._

"What do you mean?" Edmund's words cut through Peter's thoughts, bringing him to the present. "You said I was important. Why?"

"You are our brother," Peter answered blankly. "How could you not be important?"

"But..." Edmund shook his head and looked back at the forest. "Why am I needed on the throne, King Peter? Why am I important to Narnia?"

"Because you are Narnia's ruler," Peter answered.

"Narnia has a ruler," Edmund answered with a wry smile. "Three, in fact."

"But it still needs you," Peter said softly, reaching out towards Edmund. Surprisingly, the younger boy did not back away from the touch, although he did stiffen slightly. Peter, encouraged that he had not been completely rejected, tightened his grip on Edmund's arm. "And we need you."

But Edmund was not thinking about his family. He was thinking about Narnia, about what Peter had said. "Four thrones, King Peter. Why were there four thrones? How did the Narnians know you were coming?"

"There is a prophecy," Peter explained, "that Jadis' rule could only be ended when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sat on the four thrones at Cair Paravel. Us, Edmund. The four of us."

"But I do not sit there," Edmund mused. "How can the prophecy be true? She is gone, and only three sit on the thrones." He smiled triumphantly at Peter. "You see? I am not needed after all."

"You are!" Peter cried, dropping his hand back to his side. "To us, Ed!"

"Edmund," the boy corrected automatically.

Peter sighed. "Edmund," he agreed. "You are needed. We need you. And Narnia still needs you. The Witch is dead, but her presence still lingers. It will not be gone until Aslan crowns you at Cair Paravel and you take your rightful throne." He shivered, realizing for the first time how cold he was. Edmund did not seem adversely affected by the elements, but Peter was unused to this winter weather. Still, he could not leave now, not when Edmund was finally speaking to him.

"That is why she attacked our ancestors," Edmund murmured, looking around the Village. The other Villagers and the scouting party had moved away from them, giving them plenty of room and privacy. Peter noticed this as well, and he had no doubt that the rumors had spread by now. Everyone must know who Edmund was. And know that Edmund himself did not know who he was.

"Yes," Peter said. "She knew the prophecy. She needed to destroy all threats."

Edmund frowned, then said, "She got her wish, King Peter."

"What do you mean? And stop calling me King. It's just Peter to you."

Edmund sighed. "Jaxom did not finish the story. When our families came to this place, they could barely survive. But their were others in the woods, nymphs and dryads and dwarves. Our bloodlines mingled with theirs, and our families grew stronger every day because of it. There are few in this Village now who are completely human. Only two, in fact, besides myself."

"Who?" Peter asked, doing his best to ignore the way Edmund referred to these Villagers as his family and this past as his history.

"Jaxom," Edmund answered, "and my mother. Sera. The rest have other bloods in their veins." He gave an ironic smile and said darkly, "Jadis wished to remove all threats to her rule. She thought she could do that by annihilation, but we escaped her ever-expanding reach." He looked into the distance at the sun as it sank slowly over the mountains, turning the sky fiery red. "Only, we did not escape her, did we? We met her desires, but by a different path. Her threat was removed... and by our own hands."

Peter did not say anything. He knew it was not a good time to mention Edmund's first meeting with the Witch. In fact, he was not convinced he should mentioned it ever. If Edmund remembered on his own, they could worry about the consequences then. But why cause his brother pain now?

"Will you come back with me?" Peter asked finally, praying for an answer he wanted.

Edmund gave him a scrutinizing stare, then said simply, "I need to think."

* * *

_The Village, night..._

Edmund crept quietly out of his hut. Sera and Dar were fast asleep and Nasada had curled up in her own bed and drifted into slumber just a few minutes ago. This was his only chance to slip away and be alone so he could think.

What was he supposed to do?

The air was cold, biting at his skin. He shivered and pulled his wool coat tightly around his chest and shoulders. The moonlight reflected off the snow, and the sky was dotted with a million stars. He looked up at that inky expanse and smiled.

Nasada had once said it was the most beautiful sight in this world, and in any other. And, looking at it now, he could not help but agree.

At the outskirts of the Village where the trees met the smaller huts, was a group of rocks positioned in a circle. Sometimes, weather permitting, he and Nasada and the other children would eat lunch on these rocks, or play hide and seek around them. He climbed onto one now and brushed off the snow. Then he sat down, and buried his head in his hands.

"How can I be a king?" he whispered into the silence. "How?"

Although he had been too shocked at the time to really observe this newcomer, this High King Peter, now that he thought back to the older boy, he remembered the frantic tears pooling in his eyes, the relief evident in his voice, the way his eyes never seemed to waver from Edmund. It was so clear that Peter loved him.

But how could he love Peter? Or Susan and Lucy? How could he love a family he did not remember?

Peter had said that he was needed. Narnia needed him. His family needed him.

He thought of Dar, Sera, and Nasada, the only family he remembered. Did they need him as well?

"Please," he murmured to the wind, to the night sky, to the deep magics, "guide me. You saved me from death at the ice wall. You brought me here, to this Village. Why? Why did you do that? And what do you want me to do now?"

_It is a decision you must make yourself, Son of Adam. You know, in your heart of hearts, where you are needed. You must find those answers. And follow them.  
_

The voice was deep and soft, and resonated inside his mind like a purr.

He looked back at his hut. The High King was sleeping in Jaxom's hut, and the scouting party had been distributed among the remaining families. Even the meeting hall and the Healer's place were full. The hospitality of this Village, as well as its trust, had been extended to the strangers.

Were they truly strangers? One claimed to be family...

"It is not safe for you to be out here, Edmund."

Edmund did not even look towards the Wolf as he answered, "I knew you would come soon enough, Veltra."

"You are thinking," Veltra commented as he scrambled onto the rock and lay down next to Edmund. "Have you reached an answer?"

"How can I leave, Veltra? How can I walk away from my mother and father, from Nasada? How can I follow a stranger, no matter who he says he is?"

"It is your decision, Edmund. And you are the one who must live with it."

Edmund gave a snort of annoyance. "You are not helping."

"Have the magics spoken to you?" the Wolf asked, changing the subject.

Edmund nodded. "I do not know what it means. I do not know what I am supposed to do. The words... they did not help."

"They did," Veltra countered. "They always do. But before you can understand them, you must learn how to listen."

"Why would Aslan or the other magics have brought me here, if I am supposed to leave once more?" Edmund asked bitterly.

"A good question. Do you have an answer?"

"No," Edmund said bluntly. "I do not." He leaned against Veltra's warm body. "How can I be a king? How can I be responsible for an entire country? I am.. I am just... me."

Veltra appeared about to reply when his ears perked up and he lifted his nose to the wind. In a sharp growl underlined with fear, he ordered tersely, "Get behind me, Edmund."

Edmund complied, and Veltra rose to his feet, teeth bared as several dark shapes emerged from the woods surrounding their Village and began the slow descent towards the huts. Edmund gasped in alarm, but Veltra acted quickly and raised his voice to the sky, howling a warning. Within seconds, other Wolves appeared, surrounding Edmund in a protective circle, and the doors of the huts flew open as men raced out, grabbing knives and swords and rocks. The scouting party emerged as well, roused by the sudden frenzy of activity, and seeing the Fell Creatures invading the peaceful Village, rushed forward with battle cries of "Narnia!" and "For Aslan! For the High King!" on their lips.

And then something pounced, leaping over the Wolves and landing directly in front of Edmund. It was a hag, a twisted creature with maliciously sparkling eyes and a cruel countenance. Edmund reacted on instinct, lifting his hands and trying to push the hag away from him, but she laughed coldly and flung out her hand, using some magic to push him down to the rock.

"You will die, Son of Adam!" the hag nearly shrieked. "Traitor's blood belongs to the Witch!"

Her shriek of triumph turned to a cry of pain as Veltra sank sharp teeth into one of her legs. She turned on the Wolf, fury etched into the lines of her face, and looked as though she were about to kill him. Edmund jumped to his feet, lunging at her, knocking her from the flat surface of the rock. They both fell, tumbling into the snow. The blood from her injured leg spread across the white, seeping through the snow towards the ground below. Edmund struggled to his feet and backed away from her, while Veltra pounced gracefully to the ground by his side.

"Fool! Do you think you can escape us? The Deep Magic will have your blood, or all Narnia shall perish! So declared the Witch, and so it shall be done," the hag snarled, hobbling towards him. Edmund continued to back away, even as she lifted her hands once more, her long nails shaped like claws that could easily tear through his skin. "I will take your still-beating heart from your lifeless body," she crowed, "and give it to the Stone Table!"

And she sprung forward.

Mid air, a sword seemed to appear as though out of nowhere, and cleaved her head from her shoulders, sending her toppling to the ground.

Edmund spun to his left and saw Peter standing there, face white with fear and shock, sword still held in his shaking hands. The High King gave the hag a contemptuous look, then turned to Veltra and Edmund. "Go. Get out of the fight, Ed. You're the one they want, the one they are after. Go! Stay safe." Edmund could see the unadulterated panic in his eyes, and under that a flickering of pain at what might have happened had the hag had her way.

_Listen to him, Son of Adam.  
_

Edmund's head snapped up at the voice, and he knew better than to argue. "Yes, your Majesty," he whispered, and whether his words were directed towards Peter or Aslan was anyone's guess.

As they turned to leave, Peter lowered his sword in front of Veltra, stopping the Wolf in his track. Veltra lifted his gaze to Peter, and Edmund heard the High King ordered passionately, "Keep him safe."

Veltra answered in a pointed tone, "I always have."

And then the Wolf ushered Edmund away from the fight, and Peter returned to the fray.

In the safety of his own hut, Edmund sank into his bed and watched as Veltra curled up outside the window to keep watch. It was not fair, he reflected, that this would happen to the Villagers. What had they ever done but live peacefully with their neighbors? They offered friendship and trust and help to anyone and everyone, and expected nothing in return. And yet, if what Peter said was true, then these Creatures had attacked the Village in a search for him, for Edmund.

The hag had called him a traitor, said his blood belonged to the Witch. What did that mean?

"I have brought violence and pain to my family, my home," Edmund murmured, horrorstruck. "How could I have done this to them?" He pulled his legs into his chest and rested his head on his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. "What have I done?"

There was no answer to this question. He knew, logically, that without his memory he could not possibly have known that he would bring danger to the Village. But that did not change the fact that he did bring this danger, and the ache in his heart grew with every passing second that he listened to the sounds of fighting drifting on the wind.

Peter had looked so small, so frightened, as he slew the hag. He was clearly a skilled fighter, able to best almost anyone in a battle. And he had rushed to the defense of his little brother- little brother - without so much as a thought for his own safety. But when Edmund had almost died, when the hag had been nearly triumphant in her goal, the look on Peter's face...

He was, absolutely and completely, terrified that something might happen to Edmund.

The boy in question gave a little sigh. There was no doubt in his mind that Peter loved him so fiercely, so protectively. No doubt at all that his absence had caused unknown amounts of pain to his three siblings. Just like his presence here had caused pain to the Village that had given him nothing but happiness and a home after he had lost everything, even his own memories.

"Edmund?"

He turned towards the door. "Hey," he said with a forced smile. "Come in, Nasada."

The girl climbed onto the bed next to him. "You are a king," she said, leaning against his side. "That is what everyone says."

"Yes," Edmund agreed. "It is."

"Why is there fighting? I do not understand. Why can't we just be friends with these Beasts? Why do they want to harm us?"

Edmund looked at those eyes that had at one time held such innocence and naively optimistic trust. They were shadowed by something darker now, and they looked at him with a hidden sorrow that could never be erased, not now that Nasada had seen the consequences of war.

"Oh, Aslan," Edmund whispered in a barely audible voice, "what have I done?"

* * *

Author's note: **Please read!** I am leaving the country for a little over a month. Yes, a little over four weeks. And I doubt I will be able to update this story while I am gone. I apologize for that, although I promise I will update as soon as I return in September. And, if I have a chance and access to Internet, I might be able to update once while I am on vacation. But no promises...


	8. All At Once

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: While the Village reels from the recent attack, a conversation between the two brothers leaves Peter with too many questions, Edmund receives advice from an unusual source, and a decision is finally made.

Author's note: So, for the few reviewers who have expressed interest in knowing how frequently I am going to update, expect a new chapter every Sunday. If I get them written sooner, then the chapters might come a bit more frequently, but they will come at least once a week.

* * *

Chapter Seven: All At Once

_All at once the crowd begins to sing,  
__Sometimes,  
__You never know what's right without the pain.  
__Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same._

_-The Fray, "All At Once"_

_Village, night..._

The battle did not last long. For all their fury and fervor, the attacking Fell Beasts were still no match for the High King and his soliders. But the snow ran red with blood, and the cries of pain, the smells of death, seemed to linger in the air long after the last of the Beasts had fled back into the woods.

Peter wiped his sword on the tunic of a slain Minotaur, cleaning away the last of the blood, and rose to his feet. Oreius was quickly by his side, worry creating lines along his forehead. The two surveyed the scene, distraught by what this battle had cost them.

A few of the scouts were dead. A Bird, slain by a well-placed arrow, one of Cheek's Mice soldiers, and a Centaur. Both the toll was far greater than that as he caught sight of the looks of horror and shock on the faces of the Villagers. Two of their people had been killed in the battle as well, and the night was filled with the sound of wailing. Amidst all this, the bodies of the dead enemies dotted the snow as well, so much death, so much violence.

Peter turned, instinctively setting his gaze in the direction of Edmund's hut. He saw his brother emerge slowly into the night. The Wolf stood beside him, lips drawn back in a growl, clearly ready to fight any enemy that might suddenly appear. But Peter's attention was drawn to the girl, the young blonde who Edmund had referred to as his sister. Nasada was clinging to Edmund as though her very life might depend on his strength. Her eyes, wide and filled with disillusioned pain, met Peter's, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Peter turned away. He felt guilt for the look of bewildered helplessness in her eyes. He was not sure why the Fell Beasts had come to this Village, and perhaps they would have come even if he had not discovered Edmund in the mountains. But still... they had come. They had come and fought him and his scouts and his brother. He was responsible for this.

But there was another level of guilt beneath that, one that he refused to even let himself consider. And yet it was still there, slowly twisting his insides. Nasada was clinging to Edmund. Not to anyone else. Because she trusted him, because she loved him, because she thought of him as her brother. All the pain he had felt those years without his sibling... he was now inflicting on others.

"Your Majesty," Oreius said, pulling him from his troubled thoughts, "we must discuss our next plan. It is imperative that your brother return to the safety of your castle as soon as possible, but I am loathe to leave these Villagers unattended." As he said this, the centaur flicked his gaze to the fourth monarch and studied him with an interested gaze. This boy was not a king, not a leader. But he could see in the way that Edmund wrapped his arm protectively around Nasada and gazed at the destruction with hard gray eyes, that this boy was a protector.

Perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps the prophecy would hold true.

"Do you think the Fell Beasts will continue to attack once Edmund is gone?" Peter asked, biting his lower lip in worry. His blonde hair, flecked with bits of snow and stiff with frozen sweat, flopped over his eyes. He tried in vain to push it away, but the wind kept pulling it back.

"A blizzard is coming," a voice said, and Dar appeared at Peter's side. "Come to our hut. You cannot fight the snow or the wind."

Peter followed, noting that several other scouts were being lead away to seek safety from the harsh elements. He wondered when and how the funerals would take place for the two Villagers. He would need to speak to Jaxom, to offer a joint funeral that included the slain scouts. And, of course, as the High King, he would need to think up a few words to say at the funeral, a blessing for those killed while protecting their own homes and families.

Once inside the hut, the cold air was quickly replaced by the warmth of a crackling fire. Nasada disappeared, as did Sera. Edmund, Peter, Oreius, and Dar were the only ones left together in the main room, and Veltra hovered just outside the door, apparently content to lie on the frozen snow and brave the fierce blizzard.

Dar held his fingers, red with cold, out towards the fire. He glanced at Peter for a moment, then switched his attention back to the flickering flames. Peter followed his gaze and stared at the fire, wondering what would happen now. For many moments, the silence was not broken, and everyone seemed content to listen to the crackle of the flames and the occasional snap of a consumed piece of wood breaking as it turned to charcoal.

Finally, Dar said, "When the storm abates, Jaxom will most likely want to speak to you about protecting the Village. And, of course, we must have the funerals."

"If it is acceptable," Peter suggested quickly, "I would like to bury my scouts with those who died from the Village."

Dar gave him an unreadable look, then answered noncommittally, "You will need to speak to the families of the slain, then."

Peter nodded. "As you like," he replied. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"They may be very quick and they may be very long," Dar replied vaguely. After a moment, he added, "Given the speed at which this one settled upon us, I would say that it is strong, but not lasting. It will fade before too long."

Peter slanted a look at Edmund as Dar spoke. The younger boy was sitting on a rough-looking rocking chair, his arms pulled in and wrapped around his chest. His face was pale and his eyes glittered with the reflection of the flames. He was staring moodily at the fire, and Peter opened his mouth, wanting to say something, to give a word of comfort. But even as he tried to speak, the words failed to leave his dry throat, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, intently studying the ground.

"There has been much blood shed here tonight," a voice said, and Peter started, not realizing Veltra had reentered the hut. The Wolf padded silently to the center of the room and lay down by the fire. His coat was flecked with melting flakes of snow, and the ground around him soon grew damp. He seemed not to notice this, however, and instead stared blankly at nothing and thought on the darkness that had occurred. Death was never a pretty sight, but for many it was simply the beginning of the next stage in life. These deaths, however...

Peter could easily read the frustration and pain in the Wolf's tired expression. He had felt it so many times in the past, after every battle, after every funeral, after every thought of Edmund. There was something so hopelessly innocent in the bewildered faces of these Villagers, and it made the fire in his veins burn hotter, stronger. The Witch had managed to ruin the lives of far too many, and even after her death she was still hurting his subjects.

He was the High King. And until Aslan returned to the country and crowned Edmund, he would be the only king. He longed for the moment he could place the crown upon his brother's head, but until then, he would have to protect this country himself. And he would do it with every last ounce of strength, and against every foe that dared to step onto his precious land.

"May I talk to you?" Edmund asked as he approached his brother. Peter turned, surprised, and nodded quickly. He was pleased that his brother had initiated the conversation, but apprehensive when he saw the darkness in Edmund's gaze. It was more than just horror at the recent bloodshed, there was something else as well.

The two of them walked away from the others, towards the relative privacy of Edmund's bedroom. Edmund looked around, almost nervously, and Peter wondered what it was that had him so on edge. While Edmund gathered up the courage to speak, Peter let his own gaze wander the room, and frowned at how bare and simple it was. The rooms in Cair Paravel were luxurious by any standards, but compared to this place, the castle might as well have been heaven. The bed was old and worn, the blankets mended in many places. The wardrobe near the back was small, but perhaps Edmund did not have so many articles of clothing to keep in it. There was no desk, no fireplace, nothing else but an overstuffed arm chair in one corner and a thin rug spread across the floor.

And yet the Spartan aspect of it did not seem to bother Edmund. For all the bareness, it still presented a comforting feeling, a warm welcome.  
Peter looked back towards his brother.

"When the Hag attacked me..." Edmund sighed reluctantly, but continued, "she said something. About me."

Peter stiffened. "What?" he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible. He had a guess as to what the answer might be, what the Hag would have said. Edmund's initial betrayal had been all but forgotten by his siblings and most Narnians, but these Fell Beasts might think differently on the subject. If they thought they could convince Edmund that his loyalty truly belonged to Jadis...

"She called me a traitor."

Peter's eyes widened. He had not expected that. "Wh-what? What exactly did she say?"

"She said my blood belonged to the Witch."

Edmund looked past his brother towards the window. Peter followed his gaze, staring at the swirling snow, listening to the howling wind. The High King ran a hand through his blonde hair, unsure how to respond. He knew of the deep magics, knew that there were laws that foverned the fate of all people. He did not know the specifics and could help but wonder what laws had been written for traitors.

He shook his head sharply. He would not think of Edmund as a traitor. And yet...

"Your Majesty... Peter? What did she mean by that? How am I a traitor?"

Peter gave Edmund a long, scrutinizing look, thinking quickly. He could tell his brother the truth and risk causing more pain, or he could lie and spare Edmund the unpleasant knowledge. He hesitated, watching the innocent curiosity shining from those gray eyes. He could not bring himself to darken his brother's gaze. He could not be the cause of more pain.

He lied. "I don't know, Edmund." Lowering his eyes so that Edmund could not see the untruths in them, he continued, "You escaped from the witch... from Jadis. Maybe they think you are a traitor to her because of that. That could be why they want your blood." Edmund looked upset and horror-struck at that, and Peter automatically reached out and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "They will not harm you, Ed. I will not let them," he promised.

Edmund did not reply.

Peter didn't know what else to say, so he simply stood there, silent, lost in his own thoughts. This land, he recalled, felt unnaturally cold, frozen. The blizzard outside was dying now, but it had raged with an intensity far beyond anything Peter had expected, even in the mountains. It had a sort of majestic, supernatural fury to it. But why? Was it caused by the Fell Beasts? Or by some other source? How did Jadis' control reach so far that it could still afflict the land years after her death? And why would Edmund be lead to a place still controlled by this vanquished evil?

Or was this place filled with Jadis' lingering presence because Edmund was here, and not the other way around?

But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

Only Aslan would have the answers, and Aslan was not here to help him.

"If the Fell Beasts are after me," Edmund's voice broke into his confused thoughts, "then this is... all my fault. Everything that happened... all this death... I brought it here."

"No!" Peter interjected heatedly, although he could tell that Edmund was not actually speaking to him, but rather to himself. Still, Peter could not listen to those words, could not let Edmund blame himself, without feeling the need to quickly and firmly negate the accusation. "They are evil, Ed," he said softly, lowering his voice. "They worked for the Witch. And Jadis' followers... their actions are beyond your control. They want to hurt all Narnians, and the Villagers... it is _not_ your fault."

Edmund frowned and did not return as Peter trailed off. The storm was now all but completely gone, fading just as quickly as it had come.

"Your Majesty," Oreius' voice called from the center room, "Jaxom is here to discuss plans with you. We need your approval for anything we decide."

Peter sent an apologetic glance towards Edmund as he left the room, and the dark-haired boy gave a slight nod, but Peter found he could not shake the troubled thoughts from his mind.

Talk of battle plans and strategies did nothing to ease his worry about Edmund, although at least he was able to console himself with the knowledge that he was doing his best to protect his new-found subjects. In the end, they agreed to leave a contingent of scouts behind to protect the area, and a few spies who would do their best to determine the true intent of this Fell Beast army. It was not ideal, but it was the best he could offer, and even Jaxom seemed to understand that the first priority had to be Edmund's safety.

If only he could convince Edmund to return to Cair Paravel...

Once the plans were in place, Jaxom announced that he wished to perform the funerals as quickly as possible as the Villagers had the custom of not leaving the dead unburied for any longer than absolutely necessary. And the two families of the slain agreed to Peter's idea to bury them with the scouts, so a burial site was quickly chosen near the outskirts of the Village, and a ceremony was prepared. The entire Village, even the littlest of children, came out into the freezing cold to witness this event, and every face wore identical looks of pain, so much so, in fact, that had Peter not known which family was which, he might have assumed that all the Villagers had lost a relative in the battle.

So it was that, only an hour after his conversation with Edmund, while concerns about his brother plagued his troubled thoughts, Peter found himself standing before the combined Villagers and scouts, presiding over the burial of the slain.

First the families of the dead moved forward, dropping handfuls of dirt and snow and rocks onto the graves. They were followed by the other Villagers and the scouts, who did their best to keep with the customs of their hosts. The mounds grew higher, completely covering the dead and creating small rolling hills, about as high as Peter's knees. A few murmured soft words of farewell, of loss and pain, or of gratitude.

Peter watched all of this silently, gravely. It amazed him to watch the presession which was neither elaborate nor grand, but instead filled with a heartfelt simpleness that made it all the more touching to the observer. It was as though he could feel the pain of those all around him, as though it coallesced into something everyone could share. A burden shared by many was far easier to bear, and Peter felt the tiniest bit of envy for the tight-knit community these Villagers took for granted.

"Say something, your Majesty," Jaxom whispered in his ear as the last of the mourners passed by. "A blessing. A lesson. You must speak about what this all means."

Peter blinked, surprised. Most funerals were filled with talk of the person's life, the deeds they accomplished, and the manner in which they died. The idea that there was a lesson to learn in this needless bloodshed was rather foreign to him, but all eyes had now fixed upon his pale face, and he knew he needed to speak.

"Our brothers and sisters have died," he said quietly, but the wind carried his word to every ear, "but not in vain. Death has taken many before their time, and we grieve each time this happens. But we must remember that the protection of that which we love and that which we cherish comes above all else. And these brave souls knew that, and acted accordingly. It is not with sorrow for their deaths that we should remember them, but with joy for their lives and respect for their courage."

Peter looked over at Edmund. His brother stood further back than many of the others, with Veltra at his side. His lips were pressed firmly together, and his gray eyes were dark as thunder clouds. He was standing apart from Dar, Sera, and Nasada, as though his very presence might place them in danger. And Peter saw this, and felt his heart break just a little for the smiles that he knew he might never again seen on Edmund's face.

"May Aslan grant you all safe passage to the next world," Peter said finally, his voice dry and cracked, as he looked back at the graves. "And may your names never be forgotten."

* * *

_Village, later that night..._

Edmund sank onto his bed, weary. The funeral had left him with a strange feeling of emptiness. Seeing Peter stand before everyone and speak so simply, so eloquently, about the precious gift of life and made him want to dedicate everything to serving his country and his Village. And yet the best way to serve it, apparently, was to leave it behind and become someone else, someone he did not remember. How could he do that?

He flopped back onto the mattress and was almost instantly consumed by sleep. Fell Beasts wandered in and out of his dreams, chased by Peter and Aslan, and everything seemed tinted red. Like blood.

_And then he found himself surrounded by nothing at all._

_Edmund frowned, staring through the gloom in an effort to figure out just where he was and how he had gotten there. But the fading light yielded no answers, and the dream clung tightly to his mind._

__

And then he found himself on a balcony he did not recognize. He was looking out at the sea, a sparkling expanse of blue that stretched into the distant horizon. The sun was warm on his back and shoulders, and he could not help but feel at ease, relaxed, comforted, by its yellow glow. "What is this place?" he murmured.

"This is Cair Paravel," a voice answered, and he did not need to turn to know that it was Aslan who stood behind him.

But he did turn, slowly, almost reluctantly. "The castle from which his Majesty High King Peter the Magnificent rules?"

The Great Lion's gaze was gentle. "Yes. And his sisters, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy." A pause, and then a low rumble, "Your family."

_The words were not harsh, but Edmund flinched anyway, unable to reconcile himself to the idea that these strangers he did not remember could actually be related to him. "But..." he faltered, looking away shakily. "How?"_

__

"It is no use to dwell on the past, my son. You cannot change what has already come to pass. Questions of 'how' and 'why' are not as important as questions of 'what comes next?'"

Edmund swallowed. He could not make up his mind on this matter, but he lifted half-hopeful, half-desperate eyes to the Lion and asked, "What would you have me do, Aslan?"

Aslan chuckled softly. "What would you do, son of Adam? It is your decision."

Edmund dropped his gaze with a frustrated frown. "How can I be a king?" he asked, almost bitterly. "The High King asks far too much of me."

"He is your brother," Aslan chided gently, "and he has felt constant grief for your death."

"But I am not dead," Edmund countered. "I did not die."

"But he thought you had."

Edmund turned back towards the ocean. In the distance, he could see a few Birds, mere dots against the blue sky, wheeling on the wind. "How can I leave everything that I love?"

The corners of Aslan's mouth dropped down in the Lion's equivalent of a frown. "What is right and good is not always easy, Edmund."

Edmund sighed. "But I do not even know these rulers."

"They are your family. You will know them," Aslan replied reassuringly.

As he said the words, the sound of laughter cut through the air, and a young brunette girl rushed out onto the balcony. She paid no heed to Edmund or Aslan, as though perhaps she could not see them, but instead glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous grin.

"Lucy!" Another girl, older than the first, came into view. She was wearing a dressing gown over her shoulders, and her hair was pulled away from her face and neck in a messy bun, as though she been hastily dressed. Her expression was one of supreme disapproval as she stood in the shadow of the arching doorway. Eyes narrowed, she said sternly, "That was no way for a young lady to behave."

Lucy giggled, but backed away a little uneasily. "Oh, but it was funny, Susan."

Susan's eyes narrowed even further. "Funny?" she asked dangerously. "You found it funny?"

"Su, you should have seen your face!"

Susan clucked her tongue impatiently. "You are a Queen now, Lucy," she reprimanded.

Lucy pouted. "It was just a joke," she protested. "I was only having fun. You do remember what fun is, don't you Susan?"

Susan arched one eyebrow. "You consider it fun to put three frogs in my bed so they will jump out at me while I am trying to sleep?" she asked frostily.

"At least they weren't talking Frogs," Lucy replied. "And I did ask their permission first... even if they didn't really answer. Or maybe couldn't understand me." She trailed off for a moment, attempting to give her sister a winning smile. When Susan's displeasure did not appear to lessen any, Lucy said stubbornly, "It was funny!" Susan's stare only increased into a sharp glare, and Lucy finally murmured contritely, "I'm sorry."

"I should hope so," the older girl answered with a sniff.

Lucy bowed her head and muttered something about a bath as she walked past her sister and into the castle. Susan remained on the balcony.

A few moments passed, then Edmund turned to Aslan and ventured diffidently, "Queen Susan seems rather stern."

Aslan chuckled. "Wait and see, my son."

A moment later a resounding shriek could be heard, bouncing off the stone of the castle and reverberating over the balcony. A window above them was yanked roughly open, and Lucy's face appeared. Her hair was dripping with water and plastered to her face in odd shapes. She was wearing a dressing gown which she clutched tightly around her slender shoulders. Her face was white with shock.

Three geckos slid past her and out of the window, making their way down the stone wall.

"You put lizards in my bath!" Lucy cried, indignant.

And in the perfect imitation of her sister, Susan replied, "It was just a joke. I was only having fun. You do remember what fun is, don't you?" And with a triumphant smirk, she swept back into the castle.

The balcony was silent once more. Edmund leaned against the railing, staring at the places the two girls had stood and willing himself to remember. But try as he might, he could not recall anything but a vague sense of familiarity.

_Finally, he expelled a sharp breath. Turning to Aslan, he said, "They do not seem to need me."_

__

"But they do need you," Aslan answered. "More than you could ever know. And Narnia needs you." He pressed his nose against Edmund's throat, nuzzling him gently, and just as the Lion's clean, warm breath brushed against Edmund's face...

...he awoke with a sharp jolt to find himself once more in the darkness of his hut. He could hear two voices talking, and one he recognized as Peter. The other he thought might have belonged to the centaur general, although he was not sure.

"...don't even know if this is the right thing."

"Why do you doubt yourself, your Majesty?"

There was a pause, and Edmund strained to catch Peter's quiet reply. At last, the High King spoke, "Since Edmund... left... went missing... I have wanted nothing more than to find him, to know he is alive, to bring him back. Bring him home. But now... He is my brother, Oreius. I love him so much... and he does not even remember me."

Edmund rose and made his way silently towards the doorway of his room, listening with abated breath to every word that was spoken.

"Are you afraid that his lack of memory will hurt you or your sisters?"

"Yes. A little. But we may also hurt him. After all that has happened to him, how can I take him away from the only family he remembers? After all that has happened to Susan and Lucy, how can I bring to them a brother who is just a stranger? But how can I leave him here? How can I not want... _need_... him by my side at Cair Paravel?" There was a silence, then Peter said, "It seems as though any choice I make will end with me hurting someone that I love."

"Your Majesty, pain is not always avoidable," was Oreius' answer. "Someone will be hurt. You and Queens Susan and Lucy have already suffered the loss of your brother, and King Edmund has suffered the loss of his identity, though he may not yet realize how grave that loss truly is. You need not ask yourself what path is the easiest. Rather, you must ask yourself what path is necessary."

Edmund drew a slow breath and shut his eyes tightly. He bit his lip for a moment, then made a decision, one that would forever alter the destiny of all Narnians.  
He stepped into the center room of the hut and looked towards the open door. Peter and Oreius where standing there, in the snow, presumable keeping guard over the sleeping family. The two looked up in surprised, startled by his sudden presence.

"I will come," Edmund said.

"Wh-what?" Peter stammered, torturous hope reflected in the lines of his face and the steadily burning gaze of his eyes.

"I will come," Edmund repeated. "I will come with you to Cair Paravel. I... I will try to be a king."

* * *

Next Chapter: After a simple goodbye, Edmund feels alone and uncomfortable in his new role, and the tension between the two brothers escalates as they return to Peter's camp in the Western Wood in _The Space Between_.


	9. The Space Between

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: After a simple goodbye, Edmund feels alone and uncomfortable in his new role, and the tension between the two brothers escalates as they return to Peter's camp in the Western Wood.

* * *

Chapter Eight: The Space Between

_The space between the tears we cry,  
It's the laughter keeps us coming back for more.  
The space between the wicked lies we tell,  
And hope to keep safe from the pain.  
But will I hold you again?_

_Dave Matthews Band, "The Space Between"_

Everyone seemed to take the news of Edmund's imminent departure predictably. Dar was upset, but stoic. Sera was upset, and vocalized it to Peter, whom she blamed for everything. Nasada was upset, and burst into sobs. Most of the villagers, Jaxom included, accepted it with resignation and well wishes for the new-found monarch. Veltra marched up to Peter an announced he would be accompanying Edmund to Cair Paravel, then bared his teeth as though daring the High King to disagree.

Nasada wanted to know why Edmund had to leave, and why they could not go with him. But Dar understood that this was something Edmund had to do on his own, and even Sera agreed with that, albeit with great annoyance and frustration directed towards Peter.

And Peter, both ecstatic and apprehensive, sent a quick note to his sisters with news of all that had happened.

* * *

_The Village, morning..._

"This is happening so quickly," Sera commented, smoothing back a few loose strands of wispy gray-blonde hair. She bent slowly over Edmund's bed and sorted through his belongings. The High King had said Edmund would need nothing from the Village, but she still wanted to send some mementos for him, memories he could hold onto at Cair Paravel.

"I know," Dar agreed, "but we always knew..."

"... that he never quite belonged here," Sera finished in a murmur. She sank onto Edmund's bed, and Dar leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Still... I did not think his departure would happen quite like this."

"Nor I," Dar agreed with a dry chuckle. He looked over his shoulder towards the large main room. "Nasada is not taking this as well as I had hoped she would."

"She does not understand," Sera answered softly. "How can she? So much has happened in such a short time, and she is still very much a child." She pursed her lips severely, conveying her displeasure at the situation and at Peter.

"The High King seems to love Edmund very much."

Sera's expression softened at Dar's words. She nodded slowly, a little reluctantly. "It must have hurt him greatly... hurt all of them... to think their brother dead. I cannot imagine such grief."

"Aye," Dar agreed. After a moment, he confessed, "Still... I am glad Veltra will be going with him."

"As am I," Sera replied. "Although, given the actions of the High King and his followers, I doubt a Wolf will be so well accepted there."

Dar nodded, but said nothing. Instead, he thought back to the look of disgust and anger that had momentarily flared in Peter's light eyes when Veltra announced his decision. Peter had opened his mouth to reply, and it was clear to Dar that it had been a blunt refusal that had almost fallen from the High King's lips. But then Peter caught sight of the relief on his brother's face, and had changed his mind, agreeing to the Wolf's wishes. It was that, more than anything else, that had assured Dar that Edmund was in good hands. Peter would do nearly anything for his brother.

He turned his attention to Sera, who was bundling a few items into a leather satchel. A rough stone knife Dar had made for Edmund one year, a wooden box to hold parchment that Sera had given him only a few months ago, and a picture Nasada had etched into wood, a quick sketch of her adopted brother's face.

"It isn't much," Sera sighed, "but he will have so many fine things at the castle." She tied the bag shut with a piece of thread. "At least this will be from us."

"Come," Dar said finally. "It is time to say goodbye."

They rose and left the room. Nasada was sitting by the fire, her eyes fixed on the flames. Her face was streaked with tears, her pale lips quivering with barely restrained sobs. She looked up, startled by her parents' presence, and then quickly dropped her gaze.

Sera crossed the room and knelt before her daughter. "You want what is best for your brother, don't you? You want what will make him happy."

Nasada bit her lip, then answered in a shaky voice. "Ye-yes. And is this... will this make him happy, Mother?"

Sera let out a slow breath. At this particular moment in time, going to Cair Paravel was not what would make Edmund happy. Perhaps later his memories would return and he would find his home there. She was not sure, but she did know that he needed to do this. He was the king, and he had a duty to his land and his subjects. Every child had to grow into an adult and every mother had to learn to let go.

"Come," Dar said, sensing Sera was far too distraught to answer the innocent question, "we are all sad to see him go, but we must try to be happy for him. He was chosen to be a king." He helped Nasada to her feet and beckoned to Sera, and the three of them walked wearily from the hut and into the bright light of early morning.

Outside, the Villagers had gathered to bid farewell to Edmund. Edmund stood in their midst, awkwardly accepting their well-wishes. Peter stood before them all, flanked by Oreius and Philip, and the rest of the scouts lingered behind. Veltra stood to one side, watching the proceedings with a calculating gaze.

As Dar, Sera, and Nasada approached, the others fell back to give them room. Only Jaxom remained in front, standing next to the small family. As a hush fell over everyone, he was the first to speak.

"Edmund, we are so proud of you. Although it breaks our hearts to see you leave, we respect your decision. You have nobly decided to do what is best for Narnia, and there is nothing more honorable than that. I... we... hope that this brings you happiness. You will always be in our thoughts."

Edmund blushed furiously, and the Villagers burst into cheers. He turned his gray eyes towards the ground, and murmured, "I will miss you all."

Nasada suddenly rushed forward and flung her arms around Edmund, clinging to him tightly. "Don't forget me," she whispered.

"Never," Edmund assured her as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "And you must not forget me."

"How can I?" Nasada answered. "Artemis says people who we love stay with us always, even when they are gone. You will still be here, with us."

Edmund blinked rapidly as his eyes began to burn. A lump formed in his throat, and to his horror he realized he could not speak. No words would come, no matter how hard he tried to force the sound from his lips. He nodded instead, a mute answer to his sister's words.

Dar came forward next, and gently pried Nasada away from Edmund. He stared at the boy for a moment, unsure what to say, and finally settled on a simple wish, "May Aslan watch over you. Stay safe. Stay strong."

"Thank you," Edmund muttered, although it was not enough for him. How could he ever say what was truly in his heart? He faltered, looking away, knowing that mere words of thank you would never be adequate to explain just how much this Village and these people had meant to him. They had given him a home, a family, and an identity when he had none of those.

But Dar understood. He clapped Edmund on the shoulder and said, "You are always welcome here."

Finally, Sera stepped forward. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Peter take a breath and knew he was worried about what she might say. Edmund, too, was looking at her, waiting for the words to come, and she stared back, wishing she could allay all his fears and promise a bright and happy future. Instead, she reached out and pressed the satchel into his hands.

"To remember us," she murmured softly, in a voice only Edmund could hear. He nodded to her, showing he understood, and she hesitated once more, before uttering a fervent prayer. "May you find yourself and all else that you are looking for at Cair Paravel."

And then, so suddenly, the simple goodbyes were over, and Edmund found himself moving, with a heavy step and a heavier heart, away from the only life he remembered and into the endless unknown.

* * *

_The mountains beyond the Western Wood, afternoon..._

Peter slanted a quick look at his brother while the younger boy's attention was elsewhere. He had been doing this frequently, sending rapid, scrutinizing stares towards Edmund when he was sure he would not be noticed. He did not want to upset or unsettle Edmund with this close observation, but he needed to frequently reassure himself that Edmund was in fact alive and well and standing by his side.

They had been walking in silence for what seemed like eternity, although Peter new it could not have more than a few hours. The heavy blanket of snow had already soaked through his boots, and the bitter wind passed easily through his clothing. But this discomfort was not the main danger they faced, and Peter kept his eyes open for any signs of the Fell Beast army that even at that moment could be lying in wait, ready to attack.

Luck was on their side, however, or perhaps Aslan was watching over them. They encountered no unfriendly faces in the mountains.

Edmund had yet to speak.

Peter did not wish to press the boy, but the silence was growing oppressive. And yet he could think of nothing to say. Finally, grappling for words, he asked diffidently, "Would you like me to tell you about Susan and Lucy?"

Edmund, face entirely blank, turned to Peter and answered, "If you like."

The High King frowned, not liking the answer, but began to speak anyway. "Well, Susan is older than you, and Lucy is younger." He paused for a moment, then added, "I'm the oldest."

"I see," Edmund said stonily, rubbing his cold hands together. "And our parents...?"

"They are back in the land that we come from," Peter said a little uneasily. "I... well, we do not see them."

Edmund's eyes widened and he asked incredulously, "Ever?"

Peter swallowed. "No..."

"But why?" Edmund demanded uncomprehendingly. "Why would you want that? Why would you allow it? My mother..." He stopped abruptly as Peter inhaled sharply, and looked away. After a moment, he continued hesitantly and in an apologetic tone, "I mean that Sera would not... allow... something like that."

Peter did not reply. He had no doubt that Edmund's words were true, as Sera seemed exactly the type of person who would follow her children anywhere they went. He was even a little surprised, albeit gladdened as well, that she had agreed to remain behind in the Village while Edmund ventured to Cair Paravel alone.

He slanted a look at the Wolf that padded silently alongside Edmund and corrected his earlier thought. No, Edmund was not entirely alone. But still... how was he supposed to just stand here and listen to Edmund call someone else family? Refer to someone else as his mother? How could Sera, no matter how wonderful she may be, ever compare to their real mother, the woman who had given birth to them and raised them all? It was not as though she had a choice, as though she did not want to see them. But they could not leave Narnia, and even if they could, their mother was still in London, so very far away from the Professor's house.

It had been a long time, he realized, since he had thought of his mother, and ever now her face was difficult to recall. She grew more and more vague as each day passed, and he wondered if soon he would not even be able to recall her name.

The thought sent chills down his spine.

Finally, he looked back at Edmund, and the dark-haired boy shifted uneasily under his brother's gaze. "We would like to see our parents," Peter said flatly, "but it is not allowed. It is... complicated."

"Oh," Edmund murmured contritely, "I am sorry. I would have liked to meet them."

Peter felt a sudden hysterical burst of laughter build in his throat, and he only barely managed to retain his silence. The thought of Edmund being introduced to his own parents... But just as soon as it was amusing, the image turned sour. How could his own brother now know them?

"Anyway," Peter forced himself to go on, "you will meet Susan and Lucy. Susan is very motherly. She will tell you to mind your manners, to say please and thank you, to behave yourself."

"But I do all of those anyway," Edmund protested.

Peter started, surprised by the comment. His Edmund, the Edmund he had grown up with, did not do any of those things. "Of course," he managed to stutter, even as the annoyance and frustration swelled within him. He wanted his brother. Not this stranger, but the brother he knew. The one who sulked and was moody and rash. The one who was reckless. His Edmund.

He licked his dry lips and glanced over at Oreius. The general was speaking to Philip, but Peter had the distinct impression that the two had been listening to the conversation.

He had known this would not be easy. He had not expected it to be this hard.

"Susan will also sit by your bed if you have trouble sleeping," he said, pushing onwards, "and will force soup down your throat if you are sick." He smiled fondly for a moment, then added, "She makes you wear mittens when it is cold, and bring lemonade to the training field when it is hot. She is wonderful at court, and knows how to diplomatically handle any situation."

Edmund appeared to be only half-listening. He stopped, standing stiff and straight. His face was pale as he said in a low whisper, "This is it... the furthest I have been from home."

"Cair Paravel is your home," Peter said impatiently, "and it is far from these mountains."

Edmund turned, mouth open. "Far?" he echoed uncertainly.

Peter inwardly cursed himself for saying that. He had not meant to upset his brother, only to make him understand that he had a new home now. "Not so far," he said quietly. "Not so far at all."

They continued to walk in silence.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and tried to think of something to say. Finally, his mind wandered to Lucy, and he said, "Let me tell you about our younger sister."

"As you wish," Edmund replied in the same emotionless tone.

"Lucy is... sweet. So quick to laugh. To love. She is always moving, always doing something. She has so much energy. So much joy." He stopped, shook his head. Lucy had grown quieter since they had lost Edmund. She still laughed, still smiled, but... sometimes, there was a sadness in her eyes, a look of utter loss that had not been there before.

"She sounds like Nasada," Edmund remarked.

Peter gave him a hard look. "Oh?" he said noncommittally. "I see."

But he did not see. He could not possibly understand. First Sera, now Nasada. Would everyone be compared to these strangers? Would they always be second-best to people who were not actually family?

He looked up and saw Philip watching him. The Horse held his gaze for a beat, then turned his head back towards Oreius. Peter bit back the urge to yell at the Horse, which he longed to do. Why did he always feel so judged?

"We're almost here," Peter muttered softly, looking back at Edmund. "We're almost at the camp."

Edmund stiffened, then reluctantly softened, nodded. "Alright," he murmured slowly, "alright."

* * *

_King Peter's camp in the Western Woods, evening..._

Edmund felt Veltra's trepidation as the Wolf stared back at the unfriendly faces focused on him. The young king could not help but think that this first meeting did not bode well for the future. Out of the Creature arrayed before them, all snarling their displeasure towards Veltra, it was the large Panther, bandaged and obviously injured, who spoke first. He limped forward and hissed in a menacing tone, "Your Majesty, why is this vile Beast with you?"

Peter answered calmly, "He is returning to Cair Paravel with us, Shadow." However, his tone showed quite clearly that he did not like the situation any more than the Panther did.

"As a prisoner?" Shadow questioned, seeming to pick up on Peter's displeasure.

"No!" Edmund cried, suddenly worried. It was true that Peter had agreed to have Veltra accompany them to Cair Paravel, but little had been said about what would be done once they reached the castle. Surely Peter would not imprison the Wolf?

Right?

All eyes turned to Edmund, some in confusion, some in suspicion, all in surprise.

Peter gestured for Edmund to step forward and rested his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I would like to present my brother, the fourth monarch of Narnia. This is Edmund." He paused, then added, "The Wolf is his friend, and therefore our ally."

The announcement was met with a gasp of awe from nearly every creature. As the gazes changed from confusion to reverence, Edmund wished the ground would swallow him. He shifted anxiously, looking to Peter for indication of what he should do now.

"King Edmund," Shadow said, sinking into an ungainly bow on his shaking limbs, "it is an honor, your Majesty."

"All is not lost."

"The prophecy still lives."

"We have hope."

The whispers filled the air, rising as prayers. Edmund dropped his gaze to the ground, and Veltra stepped a little closer to his side, offering moral support in the face of such awkwardly amazement.

"But why is the Wolf..." Shadow trailed off as he looked at Veltra again, and Edmund had the distinct feeling that, though the Animals did not want Veltra in their mist, they also were loathe to offend their new-found king. "It was your brethren that did this to me," Shadow hissed, nodding to his bandages, "and injured Philip as well."

"Whoever attached you," Veltra answered boldly, "is not my brethren. I am your ally because I am Edmund's ally."

"Your kind served the White Witch," came a shout from the crowd. "It was your kind that stole King Edmund from us." The voice was laced with fury, and the sentiment was echoed by others.

"Enough!" Peter interjected firmly. "Edmund accepts him as a friend, and so shall we." His tone left no room for argument, and his words were received with a grumbling acceptance by the Narnians. They reluctantly nodded to the statement and slowly backed away, lowering their aggressive stances.

Watching this, Edmund could not help but admire the respect and loyalty the High King garnered from his subjects.

"Your Majesty..." a Rabbit said nervously as he approached Edmund, "I... it is... I cannot even express..." Words seemed to completely fail the poor Animal, and he lowered his head to hide the gaping wonder in his eyes.

"I, too... we are overwhelmed," agreed a Cheetah. "To have all four of you... the prophecy can now be complete. It is... truly remarkable. In every way. Praise the Lion."

A Beaver trundled forward, hands clapped together. "I had the great honor of meeting you once before, King Edmund, as I am sure you remember. I can only say that to see you now... I am left speechless with joy."

Edmund floundered helplessly as the Animals closed in all around him, touching his arms and shoulders, giving words of praise, joy, and welcome. What could he say to them? They obviously expected him to remember something about this prophecy and his supposed kingship. How could he tell them he knew nothing at all?

"We were attacked," Peter said quickly, abruptly, "and Edmund has had a trying day." To his brother, he offered gently, "Philip will take you to my tent. You should rest there." Then, with a gesture towards Oreius, he added, "Gather everyone. I need to speak to them."

Edmund allowed himself to be lead away by the Horse, relieved to escape the crowd. But he glanced once at Peter before he left. He was sure he would be the topic of whatever Peter intended to say in his speech, and he wondered vaguely how the others would respond to his identity loss.

Philip paused outside a tent and said, "This is where you will sleep. His Majesty High King Peter will join you shortly."

"Th-thank you," Edmund stammered, but the words, stuck in his throat, did not sound as heartfelt as he had meant them. He blinked back the burning of tears and stepped into the enclosed area. Philip looked as though he might say something, but then thought better of it, and remained silent as the cover of the tent swung closed, separating Edmund from the rest of the bustling camp.

_"So, Edmund," the man said kindly, taking a seat on the edge of the boy's bed, "I understand you have no memory of anything?"  
_

_"No, sir," Edmund answered politely, his tone filled with anxiety and fear. "I have no memories of... of who I am."  
_

_"No need to call me sir," the man chuckled. "Dar is quite enough."  
_

_"Oh... alright. If you wish," Edmund agreed, pushing himself into a sitting position. Past Dar, he could see the little girl - Nasada? - hovering in the background, lingering by the doorway. Snow was falling in heavy sheets outside the window, and the air smelled like cooked meat and tallow and smoke.  
_

_Dar frowned, then said thoughtfully, "Well, I spoke to the others, Edmund, and he really don't know what to do with you. You see, the problem is that this Village has been isolated for so long, and we would not know where to look for your family, even if we knew who they were."  
_

_Edmund closed his eyes and tried to grasp at memories that continued to elude him.  
_

_"But we cannot send you by yourself into these mountains, as you would surely perish." Dar looked seriously at Edmund as said, "I want to help you. But unless you remember more," he gave an apologetic shrug, "that may not be possible."  
_

_"Oh, Father, can we keep him?" Nasada asked hopefully, darting forward.  
_

_Dar gave Nasada a chiding look and said, "He is not a pet to be kept, Nasada." To Edmund, however, he added, "But if you wish to remain here in the Village, we would find a home for you."  
_

Edmund looked around the tent. A hammock was held between two wood boards near the back, and the floor was covered with heaps of clothing, a few discarded weapons, and a stack of parchment and quill pens. For some reason, he had pictured Peter as an organized type of person, and the disarray surprised him.

As he scanned the place, his eyes fell on something else, half-hidden under the stack of parchment. He reached down and carefully slid the small leather square from its resting place. He held it by the edges, frowning. It was a portrait of two girls, both of whom he recognized instantly from his dream as Susan and Lucy. They were dressed in elegant gowns trimmed with lace and ruffles. Susan wore a necklace of freshwater pearls, and Lucy's hair was held back in a knot with small red stones on a silken band. Her head was turned slightly, but Susan was looking directly forward.

What kind of brother carries a picture of his sisters everywhere he goes?

The kind who loves his family very, very much.

The picture was masterfully painted, and Edmund had no doubt that his siblings had the best of artists at their disposal. But something about the formality of the painting unsettled him. Would he be expected to wear fine clothing and pose for paintings as well? Would a crown sit on his head the way it sat on the heads of the High King and the two Queens?

He looked down at his calloused hands. He did not know how to wield a sword or survive any form of combat. He did not know how to give commands or speak to audiences. He did not know how to do any of this.

"I am no king," he whispered aloud, and the portrait of his sisters slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.

"Oh, but you are," a new voice, sweet as honey and chilling as ice, interrupted his musings. "You are indeed."

He spun around to face the woman before him. She was tall, so tall that she towered about him. Her skin was pale white and her long glowing hair a golden blonde. Her eyes, blue gray and cold, stared back at him.

He knew her, and yet he did not know her. Her very presence seemed to twist something inside of him, something pleasing and terrifying and inexplicably familiar.

"Who are you?"

She smiled, and shivers ran down his back. "I am the Queen of Narnia, Empress of the Lone Islands. And you will come back to me, little king. You will return to me."

And then, quite suddenly, she was gone, and Edmund was left to stare at nothing more than air.

A moment later Peter stepped into the tent, and Edmund turned with a startled gaze. He let his breath come slowly, steadily, when he saw it was only the High King, and the anxiety soon faded.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked in obvious concern. "What is the matter?"

Edmund sent a furtive glance towards the place the woman had been standing, but there was nothing there anymore, and perhaps there had never been. "Nothing," he said softly, "nothing is wrong, Peter."

The High King did not look convinced, but he nodded nonetheless.

"What did you tell everyone?" Edmund asked, changing the subject as he waved vaguely towards the partially open curtain of the tent.

"The truth," Peter replied calmly, but there was something in his eyes to show that perhaps the speech had not gone as well as he had hoped it would.

"That I remember none of this?" Edmund asked, suddenly unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. "That I have no idea who anyone is? Who I am? Is that what you told them? That I did not want to come? That Cair Paravel is not my home?"

Peter flinched at the words, but besides the small movement he made no other indication that he had even heard Edmund's outburst. Instead, he said, "I will have another hammock brought in for myself. You can sleep in that one." And with an abashed grin, he added, "And I can try to straighten up a bit for you."

Edmund looked at the messy floor. "I don't mind."

Peter frowned, then said, "Perhaps, but I am usually much neater than this. I... This mess is only the result of a fit of rage after the Fell Beasts injured Shadow."

The mention of the Panther caused Edmund to ask in sudden worry, "Where is Veltra?" He'd momentarily forgotten about the Wolf, but he knew it was his responsibility to keep his friend safe in the camp.

"I sent him with Oreius to meet the others who will be members of your guard," Peter answered casually.

"My guard?" Edmund repeated, and his voice was suddenly an octave higher. "I have a guard?"

Peter gave him a look of such incredulity that Edmund wondered if his question had been a grave error. But how was he supposed to know he would have a guard? And what exactly was a guard anyway? How many creatures would be part of it?

"Of course you have one," Peter explained, although it was evident that he thought this was obvious. "They protect you in times of peace and fight beside you in times of war. They will be under your command."

"My command?" Edmund shook his head in emphatic denial. "But I do not know how to lead an army during war."

"You will learn."

Edmund looked away, his gaze lingering for a moment on the worn portrait of the two Queens at his feet. Peter had spoken with such faith, such innocent belief, that Edmund could not help but wonder if he was right. And yet... he was no king, no matter that everyone believed otherwise. He felt cold at the thought, so cold, as though the ice had someone slipped under his skin and wrapped itself around his heart.

There was a silence, and then Peter asked, "Are you sure you are alright, Ed?" and something in his tone made the younger brother wonder just what he knew. Or suspected.

He swallowed uneasily. "I'm fine, Peter. I just... maybe Veltra could sleep in the tent tonight?"

He did not need to be looking at Peter to know exactly what the other boy thought of this idea. He wondered vaguely if Peter's discomfort was based in some absurd fear that the Wolf might attack them all while they slept. It was a laughable fear, and Edmund fervently wished that some day soon Peter would be able to look at Veltra and see more than just another Fell Beast, another enemy.

To his credit, Peter managed to say, "If that is what you wish, I can send for him."

"He's not a threat," Edmund said, facing his brother once more. "He's my friend."

Peter shook his head sharply. "You trust to easily, Ed. That's what got you into this mess in the first place."

Edmund narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked quickly, sensing that there was some story in that phrase, something that might shed light on his past.

But Peter, looking decidedly uncomfortable, replied, "Nothing. It's nothing."

"If it is about my past..."

Peter turned away and walked over to the hammock. He sat down on the edge of the material, balancing carefully in an attempt to keep from pitching forward to the floor. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, and when he looked back up at Edmund, there was a conflicted emotion in his eyes. But when he spoke, his words were cool and collected, "Edmund, I just don't want to see you hurt. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"I don't know," Edmund retorted. "Is it so difficult for you to understand that Veltra is not the enemy?"

Peter's hands tightened along the edge of the hammock, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip. "I lost you to the Wolves once. I don't want to do it again."

Edmund tried to dissect the words, to find some hidden meaning. It seemed as though Peter was speaking of something else, or that perhaps there was more to the story than he had originally been told. Or maybe he was simply being paranoid, at this point he did not really know. And even though Peter did eventually rise and summon Veltra, even though the Wolf curled up on the ground inside the tent to keep the kings company, Edmund could not shake the feeling of dread that rose within him.

The two brothers went to sleep in silence, the tension still lingering in the air.

* * *

_  
Cair Paravel, the following morning..._

The letters on the parchment swam before her as her eyes filled with tears. Her fingers trembled as he attempted to smooth out the creases. She could not believe the words. It was simply...

"Susan?" Lucy appeared in the doorway, gasping for breath. "Mrs. Cheever said you had an urgent letter from Peter. Is he alright?"

Susan nodded numbly. Lucy had been visiting friends when Peter's letter had arrived, and one of the Hares had been sent to find the younger Queen. But now that Lucy was here, Susan found she could not speak past the lump in her throat, and so she handed the letter to her sister. Lucy took it, read, and gasped, paling dramatically. She sank against the wall and slid down to the floor.

"Edmund..."

Susan nodded again. "He's alive," she whispered. "Alive..."

The rest of the letter did not seem to matter. She cared little that Edmund had no memory of them, that Jadis' powers still lingered in the mountains, that an army of Fell Beasts wished them harm. Edmund was alive.

She was confident that once the four of them were together again, there would be no obstacle they could not overcome.

* * *

Next Chapter: Oreius and Philip offer words of wisdom to the two kings as they make their way across Narnia, and Susan and Lucy finally see their long-lost brother in _Remember to Breathe_.


	10. Remember to Breathe

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Oreius and Philip offer words of wisdom to the two kings as they make their way across Narnia, and Susan and Lucy finally see their long-lost brother.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Remember to Breathe

_I'm starting to panic,  
remember, she asked you,  
remember to breathe,  
and everything will be okay_

_-Dashboard Confessionals, "Remember to Breathe"_

_The Western Wood, morning..._

The procession that left the camp was eerily silent. Peter led the way, his glistening armor and crown catching the early morning light. Perrin trotted quickly, holding the High King aloft with the same sense of graveness that laced his manner when he performed all of his duties. They were followed by Edmund, riding on Philip, with Veltra walking at his side. The chestnut Stallion had offered to carry the young king, and Edmund had warily agreed. Behind the two kings, the rest of the army marched, with Oreius leading.

Despite Peter's eagerness to return home, the lingering doubt from the previous night's conversation weighed heavily on his mind. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, the other intertwined in Perrin's mane. Hastily uttered words rang through his mind, and he wished now he could take them back. And yet... they were true, weren't they? Edmund had given his trust to the Witch, although the why of it remained unclear.

"What did she say to you, Ed?" he whispered in a voice only he could hear. "How did she get you on her side?"

"What are your thoughts, Sire?"

Peter started, having not heard Oreius approach. He looked at the General for a moment, then let his gaze wander to Edmund and Philip, who had fallen behind. The two appeared to be speaking, although about what it was unclear. Edmund looked a little anxious, and Philip looked the same as always - completely unperturbed.

"My brother," Peter said at last, "and... specifically about his..."

"Betrayal?" Oreius supplied when Peter could not finish the sentence.

Peter winced, not liking the word, but knowing it was the apt description for what had occurred. "Is it that obvious?"

Oreius shook his head with a smile. "Only to me, your Majesty," he answered, although this did little reassure the troubled king. "You seemed upset this morning, and your mood has not changed. Did you argue with your brother?"

"Not really. Sort of." Peter ran a hand through his hair, trying to put his thoughts into coherent phrases. "I have not told him about his original encounter with Jadis. I do not want to. It is over, and in the past, so why... why bring it up now?"

Oreius was wise enough not to answer the question, not to speak at all, and in a few moments Peter continued, hashing out his thoughts aloud for the General.

"But I can't help thinking about it. About how... and why... he ended up in that Village. I... I do not want to judge him on what he cannot remember, but how can I just... forget?" He looked off into the distance, his mind traveling over the confusing and bewildered thoughts, before adding, "On the other hand, if it never mattered to me before, not since Ed disappeared, why does it matter to me now?"

"Because he is not the brother you expected to find," Oreius suggested. Peter gave him a startled look, and then nodded slowly, and Oreius continued, "You found your brother again, only to discover that he does not remember you. It is not the joyous occasion you were hoping for, and so your understandable disappointment leads you to remember another time you were disappointed by his actions." He paused, a contemplative expression on his dark features, before remarking, "Assigning blame for past transgressions is not uncommon, but still should be done only when such actions are actually useful."

"Well, I am not entirely sure Jadis has given up her claim on my brother." Oreius appeared concerned by that, so Peter soon found himself recounting Edmund's story of his interaction with the Hag. As the General's expression changed from one of slight apprehension to full worry, Peter found himself asking, "Do you know what it means? Is Edmund in danger?"

Oreius hesitated before replying slowly, "I do not know. The only one who knows fully those laws that may pertain to Edmund's past actions would be Aslan himself. But the White Witch is not to be take lightly, even though she is dead. Until the four of you sit on the thrones at Cair Paravel..."

"Her reign will not have truly ended," Peter finished heavily. "I know." But the fact that the Witch could somehow have a hold on his brother, even from beyond the grave, seemed almost unimaginable. Aslan had defeated her already, killed her in battle.

"This threat must be investigated," Oreius murmured, and already the gleaming light in his eyes indicated that he was thinking through various plans.

"Why can't we just crown Edmund as soon as we get home?"

Oreius did not answer right away. Finally, he said, "Only Aslan can command a Coronation."

"But..." Peter stammered for a moment, then asked, "Why would Aslan not be there, waiting for us?" And yet, even as he uttered those words, another thought, a bitter one, twisted his gut. "Did He know?"

Oreius did not pretend to mistake the meaning of the question. "You should know by now, your Majesty, that the Great Lion knows most things."

"But then... why would He not tell us where Edmund was? Why would he even let Edmund end up in the Village in the first place? So much pain and grief could have been spared if he had only... "How could he let this happen?" He knew, logically, he could not blame Aslan for Edmund's choices, and it was those choices that had led him to be in the Witch's company in the first place. But if He really did know so much of what was happening in the world around him, then why... how... could he have just let them think Edmund was dead?

He glanced back at Edmund, and for a moment, the dark-haired boy met his gaze. He wondered if those gray eyes would ever smile again.

"There are many magics in this world, Sire," Oreius murmured, "and King Edmund has consorted with deep and ancient evils by allying himself with the Witch, even if it was only a few hours before he realized the truth of her morality."

"But... Aslan can just... fix it. He can make Ed a king. A true king." A pause, and then bitterly, "He should have done it already."

In a gently chiding voice, Oreius replied, "Aslan cannot help you unless you are willing to help yourself."

While Peter contemplated Oreius' words, a few steps behind him Philip and Edmund were having a similar conversation in a quiet and subdued manner, careful to keep their voices from being overheard by any around them.

"I know that he claims he has my interests, and Narnia's interests, at heart, but he is so... demanding," Edmund sighed, squinting up towards his brother. The outline of Peter's back was wrought with tension and anxiety, and he wondered vaguely if his brother even knew how to relax.

"Of course," Philip answered, agreeing with the statement. "He is the High King, Sire. What did you expect?"

"I didn't expect anything," came Edmund's frustrated answer. "Certainly nothing that involved me being a king."

Philip chuckled, or at least gave what Edmund assumed was the Horse equivalent of a chuckle. He shook his long head back and forth, his dark mane rippling over Edmund's fingers. "I dare say none of us expected to find you in those mountains either, Sire. Still... unexpected it may be, we must make the best of the situation."

Edmund accepted this in resigned silence. "Do you... do you like Peter?"

Philip hesitated, picking his words carefully as he answered. "He is the High King, Sire. He does his best to protect our lands as well he can, and for that I would say that we are all eternally grateful. To be freed from the White Witch... well, you do not remember her, but she was..." He stopped with a snort. "Evil," he finished flatly.

Edmund raised an eyebrow and countered, "That was hardly an answer to my question, Philip. There is a difference between liking someone and being grateful."

Again, Philip paused before answering. "He is trying, Sire. And none of this was easy for him, especially after you... fell. But it is clear to me, and to the rest of Narnia, that he loves us very much. Not, perhaps, as much as he loves his sisters and you, but... My feelings towards him are complicated, and cannot be so adequately described by a simply yes or no to your question. But he is a good man and he tries to be a good king. And a good brother."

"I see."

"Do you like your brother?"

Edmund, too, found he had to hesitate before answering. He was not even sure he could answer the question at all. "I don't really know him," he said at last.

Philip, however, did not find this a satisfactory answer, and pressed, "But you must have some idea. Your first impressions, even."

"First impressions are dangerous," Edmund retorted, and then froze, eyes widening. Philip came to a halt, and looked up at the dark-haired boy, worried. The Animals around him stopped as well, all dancing anxiously around their new king, watching and waiting.

"Your Majesty?" Shadow asked, coming forward.

"Edmund?" Veltra growled, trying to get his friend's attention.

Edmund started out of his trance and ran a hand through his hair absently, his eyes scanning the area around them. "I... I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you all. I just... something felt... familiar." It had been tugging at his mind, a memory or a warning or _something_, but he could not determine exactly what it was or what it meant. But his reply to Philip about first impressions had struck a chord deep within him, and he could not let it go.

"Familiar?" Veltra demanded.

Edmund looked at the Wolf, then turned his gaze towards Peter. The High King, noticing that the others had stopped, had directed his Unicorn around, and was staring at Edmund in true concern and worry. Even across the distance that separated them, Edmund could see the way Peter's eyes swept over his body, looking for signs of injury, and then snapped back to his face, searching for signs of distress.

"Edmund?" he called.

"It's fine, Peter," Edmund answered. To Philip, he said in a murmur, "Let's walk with him for a while." And Philip gladly obliged, carrying Edmund quickly forward so that he rode between Peter and Oreius, with a still wary Veltra and Shadow trailing behind.

They did not see the set of eyes that watched them so closely.

The Hag smirked to herself as the procession made its way through the trees. For all their scouts and guards and spies, they still could not see past the simple Dark Magics that enveloped her, keeping her invisible to their searching eyes. Wrapped in the safety of this power, she had no fear of them, or of their traitorous kings.

Taking the boy from the mountains would not protect him, nor would it protect Narnia. They had waited a long time to find this traitor, and now that he was well within their grasp, not even the entire army at Cair Paravel would be enough to stop her from getting what she wanted. The day of reckoning had come.

* * *

_Cair Paravel, afternoon..._

"No! No, that's all wrong!" Susan announced, striding forward in a swish of skirts. She seized the tablecloth and yanked it from the table, discarding it airily onto the floor. The attendants who rushed over to help her hovered about, waiting for her orders. When their Queen Susan the Gentle got into this particular mood, she was no longer gentle at all, and they knew better than to do anything without her approval first.

The gentle Queen inspected the other tablecloths spread out before her. There were a variety of colors, some with silver and gold stitching or embroidery, and all made of the finest silks that could be found.

"These," Susan said finally, gesturing to a grouping of deep red cloths embroidered with silver and gold along the edges. Instantly, there was a flurry of commotion as everyone rushed about, frantically trying to cover the the tables with the chosen accessory. Susan stood back to admire the scene before her, the tables all arranged properly, the sunlight flooding through the large windows and illuminating the room, the entire place glowing with a sense of anticipation.

"It looks beautiful."

Susan turned quickly at the sound of her sister's voice. "Thank you," she said graciously. Extending one hand towards Lucy, she turned back to the room with a proud smile. Lucy came to her side, and the two stared about them, content and happy.

Edmund was coming home.

Susan had quite outdone herself in the arrangements for this celebration. Edmund would not even return until the following evening, but she had wanted everything to be arranged far enough in advance that she could make any necessary changes. Things needed to be absolutely perfect for the arrival of their long-lost brother.

"It's better than Christmas," Lucy breathed, tilting her head up towards her sister, and Susan could not help but grin because, coming from Lucy, that was the highest compliment one could receive. But then her thoughts wandered off to their first meeting with Father Christmas himself, and how the enigmatic man had bestowed the wonderful gifts upon them.

_A tall man in a red suit pulled his reindeer to a stop and smiled at the children in front of him. His long beard was snow white, along with his hair, and his face was lined with age. But he wore a jovial smile, and he laughed merrily at the stunned expression on the children's faces._

_Lucy was the first to find her voice. "I told you he was real," she announced triumphantly to Peter. Turning to Father Christmas, she said happily, "Merry Christmas, sir."_

_Father Christmas nodded. "It certainly is, Lucy, Daughter of Eve, now that you and your siblings are here."_

"_This is unbelievable…" Susan muttered faintly to herself._

"_We thought you were the Witch," Peter explained quickly. _

_Father Christmas gave a wry chuckle and nodded. "Understandable," he agreed. "But in my defense, I have been driving one of these," he glanced back at his sleigh, "since long before she has."_

"_I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia?" Susan asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing slightly. All of this was absolutely impossible. First they had entered some magical world through an old wardrobe - _wardrobe _- then they found out they were kings and queens, and now they were being accosted by Father Christmas? How could this be anything more than a very strange, elaborate, complicated dream?_

"_There wasn't," Father Christmas replied sadly. "Not for a hundred years." He shook his head for a moment, as though morning all the lost years, then he looked back at the children. "But now that you are here, there is hope again. And the Witches power is starting to fade a little."_

"_What hope could we possibly bring?" Susan demanded. Edmund was gone, and Peter was trying to be a leader and... they were just children!_

"_You've come to break this winter spell, have you not?" Father Christmas asked mildly. Susan stared at him for a moment in silence, and he continued, "The prophecy, my dear child. You and your siblings will sit on the thrones at Cair Paravel."_

_Lucy nodded at this, and Susan had the feeling her sister would agree with anything Father Christmas said, regardless of what it was. But Susan, her expression filled with disbelief, was not about to allow some man in a red suit tell them that this ridiculous imaginary prophecy actually meant something. She shook her head, and reached out to catch Lucy's shoulder, in case she needed to pull her sister back to prevent her from doing something reckless in her innocent faith._

_Father Christmas turned back to his sleigh. "You still have a long way to go, children, so I do not wish to detain you much longer. But I do have a few items here for you…" _

_"Presents!" Lucy cried, running forward before Susan could stop her._

_"This is for you, Lucy," Father Christmas said reaching into the bag and pulling out a belt with a small bottle attached to it. "It contains the juice of the fire-flower. One drop will cure any injury." He paused, then pulled out a small dagger and sheath. Holding it in his hand, he weighed it carefully, speaking in a grave voice. "And though I hope you never have to use it…" The sentence trailed off as he looked at Lucy._

_Lucy nodded slowly, apprehension evident on her features, and reached for the weapon. "Thank you, sir," she said at last, "but I don't think I could be brave enough to use it."_

_"I'm sure you could," Father Christmas replied, smiling down at her. "But battles are ugly affairs." Then he turned away from Lucy and stepped over to Susan. He pulled a short bow out of his bad, and a quiver of arrows. "For you, Susan," he said, holding out the two gifts. "Trust in this bow, and it will not lightly miss."_

_Susan took the bow and arrows, her lips turning into a wry smirk. "What happened to 'battles are ugly affairs'?" she asked pointedly. What kind of fool gave such weapons to children?_

_Father Christmas laughed, but continued as though he had not heard her speak. "And though you seem to have no trouble making yourself heard, blow on this horn, and help will come, wherever you are." He pulled out a beautifully curved horn, and Susan accepted it as well._

_Peter stepped forward._

_"As for you, Son of Adam," Father Christmas continued, reaching into his bag once more and revealing a long sheathed sword and a shield engraved with the symbol of a lion, "There are tools, not toys. Bear them well, for the time to use them may be near at hand."_

_Peter accepted them, wordlessly._

_Susan looked at the deadly weapon, and then looked away, her gaze falling to her own bow. Something was wrapping itself around her heart, squeezing tightly, and filling her with a nameless dread. This might be a dream, but she was beginning to realize that it could just as easily become a nightmare, and she might never wake up._

_Father Christmas gave them another smile then climbed back into his sleigh. "Well, I'd best be off. Winter is almost over, and things do start to pile up a bit, when you've been gone for a hundred years."_

"_What about Edmund?" Lucy asked impulsively._

_Susan's gaze snapped to her sister. What about Edmund, she wondered. Lucy obviously needed some sort of reassurance that her brother would come back to them, relatively unharmed by his time with the Witch. But she was not sure that was possible. His betrayal, if it really was that, was still fresh and raw, and if the Witch was as evil as everyone claimed, she doubted her baby brother would be spared the wrath of this Jadis._

_Father Christmas frowned. "Your brother's gift will find him," he replied at last, his words enigmatic. Then he flicked his reindeer's reins, and disappeared into the snow._

_"He said winter was almost over," Peter said, suddenly. "You know what that means. No more ice!"_

Lucy was humming happily to herself as she wandered between the tables, and Susan watched her with an appraising stare. So much had changed since that day in the woods, since Father Christmas had offered his gifts and his wisdom. Susan had begun to believe, albeit slowly and reluctantly. She had accepted the inevitable, that this was not a dream, that this was reality, and that she had a duty to perform.

And Lucy had found the inner strength and courage to use that small knife, to fight to defend her family and her subjects. She was Valiant, and Aslan had certainly named her well. But her innocent faith had never wavered, not even in the midst of battles. Sometimes her expression would darken with anger or fill with grief, but the faith was still there. A faith that Susan knew she herself did not always possess.

Susan often wondered at Aslan's name for her. Gentle. She was hardly gentle, although she did try her best to be compassionate and understanding. But how could she be gentle when Edmund was gone and Peter was falling apart? How could she be gentle while those who had stolen her little brother and pulled apart her family, still lived in this world, still walked these lands?

And yet... Father Christmas had said that Edmund would receive a gift as well. Perhaps... perhaps that was some sort of hint for them, that Edmund would come back. She was not sure, but as she contemplated that memory and those words, she felt the same stirrings of apprehension, of fear.

"Su?" Lucy asked, floating back to her sister's side with something akin to concern in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

Susan swallowed back her own fears and nodded. There was no reason to burden her sister with these vague feelings. She could not even explain what it was she felt, not to herself and not to anyone else. So instead, she looked away, over towards the windows where the golden sun could be seen, settled high in the sky. "I'm fine, Lucy," she said, "just... nervous."

"About seeing Edmund?"

"Yes," Susan said, and then noticed that all their attendants, servants, ladies-in-waitings, and members of their guard, had tactfully withdrawn to the other end of the room, not wanting to disturb the two Queens.

"I am, too," Lucy confided. "I mean... so much has changed. He won't be the brother we remember. I... It's a little frightening, isn't it?"

Susan nodded. It was frightening, more than Lucy could know. She took a slow breath, inhaling and exhaling thoughtfully, trying to calm her nerves.

"But," Lucy said brightening cheerfully, "at least he's coming home. Thank the Lion for that."

Again, Susan nodded numbly, mutely. At least he was coming back.

* * *

_Somewhere outside Cair Paravel, the following afternoon..._

The rest of the journey had passed peacefully enough. Edmund did his best to be polite and civil to Peter, even as his own worries and trepidation tore his apart inside. Peter, too, tried to forget about Edmund's past, about the Witch, about his anger towards Aslan, and focus instead on his brother, who was alive and right here by his side.

But then the Cair was suddenly rising in front of them, a large structure of stone and marble and wood and brick and...

Edmund froze, and Philip halted as well. Peter turned, eyes concerned, expression shadowed with discomfort at Edmund's terrified expression.

"Is that... home?" Edmund whispered, and even as he said those words, he saw the Creatures moving around the outside of the Cair, gathering to gawk at him.

"Yes." Peter reached out and grabbed Edmund's shoulder. "Look at me, Ed."

Edmund forced his gaze towards his brother. "Yes?" he whispered shakily.

"I know this is frightening. I know it is overwhelming. I was terrified when I first say the Cair, when I realized that I was going to be living here, ruling from here. But I had Susan and Lucy, and Oreius, and Philip and Shadow. I had family and friends and support." Peter hesitated, then said firmly, "And so do you."

"I..." It was so tall, so imposing, so impressive. The castle, this place where he was supposed to live, was decorated in ways he could not even begin to comprehend. Symbols, ancient and old, and new designs, new fashions... This place was a compilation of the greatness of Narnia's past and the promise of the future, and staring at it, he felt something move in his stomach. Something he did not understand.

"Edmund," Peter said again, "you have us. You have me. You don't need to be intimidated."

Edmund nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. "I... let's go."

Peter smiled supportively, encouragingly, and they walked towards the gates. Animals were joining the march behind him, bowing and whispering and staring at then with awe. If Edmund had thought that his introduction at Peter's camp had been overwhelming, this was beyond comprehension. Beyond anything he had ever even _dreamed _of.

"Breathe," Philip whispered, and Edmund obeyed.

Peter did not miss the bewildered and suspicious glances sent towards Veltra, but he knew none would dare approach the Wolf so long as he was a member of this royal procession. Still, he did not want this joyous occasion to be dampened by conflict, and that meant he would need to have Veltra quickly removed to a safer and more secret place once they entered the Cair. The issue of the Wolf's presence could be dealt with the following day. But not now. Not tonight.

They passed through the first of many gates, and Edmund gasped at the beauty. Trees bent towards him, dancing with joy, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers. Somewhere someone was playing something that sounded like pipes, and the delicate notes of a harp or a lyre floated towards them as well. Everything was green and beautiful, and he could see the distant sea spreading out towards the horizon, glittering in the late afternoon light.

The road sloped up into stairs, and the stairs were lined with Creatures, all standing to attention, staring at the two monarchs. There were Cheetahs and Dogs and Mice and Birds and Centaurs and Water Sprites and a variety of others Edmund did not even recognize. Everything was decadent and wonderful and these Creatures were grinning with happiness and excitement.

Philip stopped. "You should walk now," he murmured towards Edmund even as Peter was already sliding from Perrin.

Edmund complied, dismounting and looking around, flushed with embarrassment and awe. How could he have inspired all this?

And then, before anyone could say or do anything, something small and shaking with uncontainable vibrant energy rushed forward, colliding with Edmund. Two small arms wrapped around him tightly, and the air erupted into cheers. Edmund pulled back and looked down, meeting two wide brown eyes filled with tears of joy and a smile that nearly split the face in two.

"Lucy," he murmured.

And then Susan was there, walking with more decorum and poise, but the same hope and ecstatic, fierce, possessive happiness in her eyes. She, too, flung her arms around Edmund, and he found himself hugging her back without even realizing it.

The ache in his chest eased just a little, and the anxiety slowly lessoned, just a fraction, just the tiniest bit. But enough that he was able to stare at his two sisters, two more people he did not even recognize but who obviously loved him very much, and smile.

Peter looked at the scene, unable to keep the grin from his face. Still... he could not help but feel a little disappointed and betrayed that Aslan was not here to meet them.

* * *

Next Chapter: The festive celebration in his honor is too much for Edmund, but his evasion tactics lead him into danger, and the Fell Army makes another move against the four rulers of Narnia in _Scars_.


	11. Scars

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: The joyous celebration of Edmund's return is interrupted by an attack from the Fell Beast army, and Edmund's careless words bring bring Lucy's tears and Susan's wrath upon him.

Chapter Ten: Scar_s_

_I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut,  
My weakness is that I care too much.  
And my scars remind me that the past is real,  
I tear myself open just to feel._

_- Papa Roach, "Scars"_

Edmund shifted uneasily as the satyr moved around him, pulling and prodding and pushing. His hands rested numbly at his side as the satyr in question continued to adjust his outfit, nimbly slipping silver buttons through the small holes in the material and yanking the shoulders of the tunic into proper position. The attendants hoofed feet clicked on the stone floor, echoing in the silent room as he move back and forth before the boy in question.

"There," the satyr side finally, stepping back with a smile. "Well, it isn't the best fit, but we will have time to make plenty of clothing for you later, Sire. This will have to do for the celebration."

"Th-thank you," Edmund stammered, turning slowly and catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. He did not recognize the boy who looked back at him, this stranger who was dressed in a fine tunic studded with silver and trimmed with golden thread. His face was pale, his gray eyes dark underneath his mop of almost unruly hair. He licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry, and tried to reconcile his notions of himself with this royalty he was to become.

A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts, and he turned, a slight frown marring his features, as the door slid open and Susan swept into the room. She gave him a quick look, a smile hovering at the corners of her lips, and said, "Good. You have dressed. Does everything fit alright?"

"I... I think so," Edmund answered, blushing red under her scrutinizing stare.

Susan nodded slowly, her gaze softening slightly, and she took a few steps forward and slipped her arm underneath Edmund's, taking his elbow. As she led him from the room, she whispered in a gentle voice, "Don't worry, everything will be fine. Peter, Lucy, and I will all be right next to you for the entire celebration."

The fact that these three strangers would be there did little to ease the anxiety that rushed through his veins, but Edmund recognized his sister's words as a gesture of comfort, and did his best to appear grateful for her efforts. As they walked, he studied her out of the corner of his eye. Her hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders, and her bright eyes stood out against the fairness of her skin. She was dressed in something lush and fancy, trimmed with lace, and a silver necklace adorned her throat. But it was the way she moved that captivated his attention, the gliding steps, so smooth that it seemed as though she was floating forward with an aura of complete confidence. As though she knew that no obstacle would ever block her path.

She reminded him slightly of Sera.

_"And you must be Edmund," the woman said, entering the hut. Edmund looked up sharply, taking in the sight of the austere looking face, the blonde hair streaked with gray, the simple wool dress creased with age._

_"Y-yes, ma'am."_

_The woman wrinkled her nose. "I would rather you not call me that, child. I am not so old as to need to be referred to as 'ma'am.'" She looked around the hut. "Has Dar made arrangements for you?"_

_"He... um, he said he would speak to someone... a... uh... Jaxom, I think?" Edmund ventured hesitantly, trying to sit up in bed. "You are... you are Sera?"_

_"I am," Sera answered simply. "Well, I suppose you shall have to stay here. I cannot imagine to whom else Jaxom would wish to send you, and Nasada seems to have grown attached to you already." For a moment, her expression seemed less foreboding as she mentioned her daughter. "She does get attached rather easily, my Nasada."_

_"I... I do not need to stay here," Edmund said, swallowing. "I... you are not required to..."_

_"Don't speak such nonsense, Edmund," Sera interjected before he could continue. "Where would you go? You remember nothing, and we cannot allow you to wander about the mountains. It is hardly a safe place for a child. No," she continued decidedly, "you will stay here. With us."_

_"Sera?" a voice called, and she turned towards the door._

_"Yes, Dar?"_

_Dar entered, followed by the man that Edmund recognized as Jaxom. Nasada, as always, darted back and forth behind the others, listening with rapt attention to every word that was spoken._

_"How do you feel, Edmund?" Jaxom asked as Dar went to stand next to his wife._

_"Better, sir. I..." He stopped, shrugged, and lay back against the pillows. "A little tired, still."_

_"That is to be expected," Jaxom answered with a nod. "But if you are well enough, I would like to discuss what we should do with you. It is imperative that we..."_

_"He will stay with us," Sera said swiftly, cutting into the conversation. She had her back to them, and it took a moment for Edmund to realize she was leaning over the fire, feeding it a new branch of wood and some smaller sticks to increase the heat within the hut._

_Jaxom looked at her. "But, I..."_

_"You do not oppose?" Sera asked Dar, ignoring Jaxom._

_"N-no," Dar answered honestly, a little surprised by the question. "No, that is fine. He has nowhere else, so our home is as good as any for him."_

_"I think it would be best if we perhaps talked about this with the other Villagers," Jaxom suggested, "and discussed the best way to provide for Edmund."_

_"What is better than this?" Sera asked pointedly. "He has already been here a few days. He knows Dar and I, Nasada likes him. What else is needed?"_

_"Caution," Jaxom answered, and Edmund realized that his fate was being debated right here in front of him, and he had somehow been pushed out of the conversation as though he had no real need to play a role in the decisions that would determine his future._

_"Caution for what?" Sera shot back._

_"You are speaking about adding to your family, Sera. That would affect your life, Dar's life, Nasada's life, Edmund's life. Not to mention the lives of all of us in the Village. It is not a simple matter of..."_

_"Of course it is a simple matter," Sera countered. "We are providing for a child who needs our help."_

_"Yes, but..."_

_"Unless you think we would not be able to provide for him."_

_"No, that's not..."_

_"Then it is settled," Sera finished triumphantly, and Jaxom lapsed into silence, apparently realizing that Sera had already come to her decision and it would be impossible to change her mind. Dar smiled, seeming pleased with the situation, and Nasada grinned wildly at the prospect of having a brother. Edmund stared back and forth between the three adults and the younger girl, and tried to figure out just how this woman he had only met moments ago had managed to take control of the entire situation and orchestrate it in such a way that no one else had any input whatsoever._

_Of course, she had been right in the end, and the situation had worked out perfectly for all of them. Sera, he soon discovered, was almost always right._

"How... how many shall be here?" Edmund asked finally, pushing away the memory and turning his attention back to the celebration before him. He had done his best to wash himself, but his damp hair now flopped forward against his forehead, and he tried to fix it with his free hand.

Susan shrugged elegantly. "Many, I suppose. So many want to celebrate your return, Edmund. It brings hope to them... to all of us who long to see Narnia restored to its rightful glory and peace." She patted his hand and said with a knowing look, "Just try to breathe and smile. I promise, no one will expect a speech from you. At least not tonight."

Edmund inhaled sharply at the thought of having to give a speech in front of the Narnians. While he was grateful that he would not be required to speak this very night, he could not help but be a little alarmed that he would need to orate at some point in the future. Instinctively, he felt himself shrinking against Susan's side, but if she noticed his trepidation, she did not show it on her face or in her words.

"We are almost at the banquet hall," she murmured in a low voice. "The guests have already assembled, and Peter and Lucy are there. When you enter, there will be some form of fanfare. Smile, wave, perhaps give a little bow. Peter will begin speaking, and we will join him." Again, she patted his arm, her fingers lingering on his skin for a moment longer than necessary. "I will not leave your side until you have reached Peter. Not even for a second. You are safe here."

Edmund nodded, indicating that he understood, but could not bring himself to smile, or even to answer her words. For a moment, he stood still before the giant wooden doors that blocked his path, staring at the elaborate etchings and engravings along the post and the curved arch above.

"Do... do they know... about my... memory?" Edmund asked anxiously, blinking rapidly to keep the tears of fear from showing in his eyes.

Susan turned towards him and cupped his face in her hands. "They know that you are their king and our brother, and that you have returned to us. All else in inconsequential." She held his gaze a beat longer, then dropped her arms by her side. "Come. The entrance is the hardest part. After that..." she slid her arm through his elbow once again, "everything will be easy."

And she directed him forward, and the grand wooden doors swung open, and everything seemed to dissolve before him in a sudden rush of light and sound.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright light. Squinting ahead, he saw a large banquet room that opened into a balcony overlooking the ocean. One side of the hall was covered in tables, each decorated in their own lavish designs. The other side of the hall was filled with Creatures milling about, talking and laughing and shouting at each other from across the space. The walls were lit with torches that sparkled and flashed, sending shadows dancing across the floor. A fanfare of trumpets and other rather loud instruments cut through the air, accompanied by the crash of some drum-like device and the stamping of feet, hooves, and claws. Cries of "Hail, Sire!" and "Welcome, King Edmund!" floated towards him, rising above the rest of the intense noise.

He stumbled backwards, eyes wide, and slanted a look at Susan.

"Smile," she whispered through clenched teeth, a smile of her own plastered to her face as she nodded to the subjects that pushed closer towards the two, "and remember that I am right here. By your side."

Edmund winced inwardly, but tried his hardest to smile, and even remembered to incline his head once or twice. Over the heads of the crowd, he caught sight of Peter and Lucy, standing on a raised platform, waiting for him. Peter was smiling, his eyes alight with happiness to see his family together, and Lucy was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, ardent enthusiasm brightening her face.

Susan led him through the throng, the Creatures seeming to melt away from before her as she passed. The reverence in their gazes once again bothered Edmund, but there was nothing he could say or do that would convince anyone he was not deserving of this awe, and so he followed his sister forward. Her grip had tightened on her elbow, and when their eyes met, he saw the fierce protectiveness in them. He knew she was called the Gentle, but he had a feeling that she did not always embody that attribute.

"Tonight, we celebrate the return of my brother," Peter's voice rang out, and soon a hush fell over the hall. Susan directed Edmund to his brother's side, and then she stepped back so that she was in line with Lucy, the four of them staring out over their subjects. Edmund looked at Peter as he spoke, while Susan and Lucy both looked at him, and Peter alternated his gaze between his brother and his two sisters. "After so long, he has come home, come to us so that we can reunite once more. Soon, with Aslan's blessing, he too shall take his rightful seat on the fourth throne of Cair Paravel, and then the prophesy will be complete, and the reign of the White Witch, of the impostor Jadis, will finally be over. Narnia will be yours!"

His words were met with shouts of joy and cries of ecstatic hope. Edmund looked back at his subjects, spotting Oreius, Philip, and Shadow in the mix. There were several others as well that he recognized from the scouting party, although he could not name them. They were all laughing and prancing about, hugging each other and chattering in a jumbled mess that left him feeling dizzy.

And then he saw her.

Standing at the very back of the banquet hall where the arching doors opened onto the balcony, was a lone woman. She was unseen by all the others, but he could not tear his eyes away from her pale face. She smiled at him, cherry red lips splitting into a smirk, and he felt suddenly cold. Everything seemed to slow down, and his limbs felt heavy, numb. He took a faltering step towards her, his mouth falling open, and reached out one hand, either to beckon her forward or to push her away, he was not sure which.

But his strange movements went unnoticed by all save Susan, who reached out quickly and caught him by the arm. Her fingers pressed into his skin, and the sharp pain of her nails brought him back to his senses. His free arms dropped to his side and his mouth snapped shut, even as he caught sight of the concern on her face and the disapproval she was trying to hide. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, discreetly gesturing for Lucy to step forward as well, and soon he was being embraced by both sisters. It did not escape his attention that part of the embrace was not for comfort, but to make sure he did not move away from them.

The imposing woman at the back of the room began to fade, and when he snapped his head back towards her, she was gone.

Peter was still speaking, and he forced himself to listen to the High King's words.

"...thank Aslan that he is safe. Although the circumstances that led us to him were, and still are, dangerous, tonight is not a night to dwell on what might plague us tomorrow, but to instead to celebrate what the Great Lion has done for us this past day!"

And for the next hour, everything was a blur.

There was music and dancing, and he was sure that somehow Lucy had convinced him to dance with her once or twice, but his feet could barely keep rhythm, and he felt awkward trying to shuffle gracefully along beside her. There was food and drink, and at one point he retired to a table in order to rest, and Susan hovered just around him, unwilling to leave him alone. Creatures pushed in around him, converging from all sides in a desperate attempt to seize his hands and pat his arms and shoulders. Peter slipped to his side for a moment, clasping him on the shoulder in a reassuring gesture, before being whisked away once more.

And by the end of the first hour, he could take it no longer. Muttering some excuse to those around him, he fought his way through the crowd towards the balcony. It was nearly impossible to slip out unnoticed, and just when he thought he would never have the opportunity for some peace and quiet, a satyr appeared at his side and tilted his head in a smiling nod of welcome.

"Well me, Edmund Pevensie. I see you still have your sister's nose."

Edmund stared blankly at the satyr while a pair of dryads tripped over themselves and nearly collided with him. They were shepherded away by a Fox, but several others soon took the empty space, pressing towards him.

"I... um..."

"It has been a while since we last met, Sire," the satyr said with a bemused look, "and Queen Lucy tells me that I have changed much in these past years. Mr. Tumnus," he gave an elegant bow, "at your service."

"Ah..." Edmund fumbled around for a moment, wishing he could think of the proper answer to give to this satyr who so clearly knew him, when he had no idea just who this Creature really was, how they had met, or what the stranger met by his comment about noses.

"Where you wishing for some fresh air, your Majesty?" Mr. Tumnus continued. "I do not wish to impose myself upon you in such a manner if you were intending to speak to others, but if you were seeking the fresh night air, would you allow me the honor of accompanying you to the balcony?"

The formality of his speech confused Edmund even more, and he found himself agreeing without really knowing what he was agreeing to. Mr. Tumnus took him by the hand, and guided him easily through the crowd. It took only a moment, and then he was leaning against the stone railing, staring up at the tiny specks of white glistening from the inky night sky. The stars were not as bright here in the middle of the Cair as they were over the mountains, but he loved them all the same. The night breeze was cool against his skin, and tingled with the barest scent of saltwater drifting in from the sea.

"Queen Lucy has informed me that you do not remember..." Mr. Tumnus murmured gently as he took a place next to Edmund.

"No. Not... not anything, really."

The satyr seemed to contemplate him for a moment, then he said slowly, "I am sorry, your Majesty. It is a hard loss."

"When did we meet?" Edmund asked. "And when did you first meet Lucy?"

"I met Queen Lucy when she first arrived in Narnia, and you I met in the Witch's dungeon."

"Dungeon?" Edmund breathed, feeling another wave of chilliness rush through him. "What was I... how did I get there...? How did you get there?"

A hard look flared in the satyr's eyes, something dark and unreadable. Edmund felt a surge of fear and anxiety, but before he could wonder about the satyr's expression, two voices floated towards them on the wind, coming from just within the entrance to the banquet hall.

"... I know, Susan. Still, I do wish we did not need to do this tonight. I would rather spend it as just the four of us."

"We all would, Lucy. And I do not like putting this pressure on Edmund any more than you do, particularly when he does not even remember us. It is overwhelming for him, I can see it in his eyes and his movements. But the Narnians want to celebrate with him. They have longed for him as well."

"Yes, but..."

"Come, Lucy. You know as well as I that a monarch belongs to more than just him or herself. Or even his or her family. We belong to all of Narnia, and how can we really deprive our subjects of a chance to commemorate the beginning of the end of Jadis' reign? No matter how much we may want to have Edmund to ourselves now, he is not ours alone."

"I suppose. Let us rejoin the dancing. Edmund is safe with Mr. Tumnus, and I am sure he could use some time alone and away from all of this."

The voices drifted away as the two Queens moved back into the room, but Edmund noticed that Mr. Tumnus was still staring in the direction of Lucy's voice. The look in his eyes had changed from a cold wariness to something warm and gentle, and when he finally looked back at Edmund, he seemed to be making a decision of some sort.

At last, he said, "I was in the White Witch's dungeon for helping Queen Lucy escape her grasp. And you were there... you were there, Sire, because you defied her and tried to save your siblings from her deadly plans."

Edmund was about to question the satyr about his statement when a low keening howl broke through the night, a sound he recognized at once. He spun, eyes wide, and leaned over the balcony railing, squinting into the night. "Get Peter!" he said instinctively, his hands scrambling to his belt for a hunting knife he often carried with him. But he had not brought it with him on this night, and he found himself without any means of defense against the danger that he knew was lurking just beyond his vision.

Beside him, Mr. Tumnus was already racing towards the hall, crying for General Oreius and King Peter, and it did not take long until the High King was at Edmund's side.

"Ed? What is it?"

Edmund twisted to face Peter. "That's Veltra's howl," he said quickly, the words falling from his lips in a hectic and barely coherent mess. "It means danger. He's warning us... something is wrong!"

And no sooner had he issued the cry than a shape swooped down out of the night and latched sharp claws onto his shoulder, talons drawing blood. In one swift motion, Peter drew his sword and slew the Bat. But even as the lifeless body collapsed on Edmund's back and then tumbled to the ground, other Creatures dropped out of the night sky, hissing and shrieking their battle cries.

"Edmund, get inside!" Peter ordered as he swung his sword again. "Oreius, assemble the archers. Shadow, Cheek, get anyone who is not a fighter into the castle and locked safely behind doors. Nightrunner, Stella, I want soldiers on each of the balconies and in the courtyard below. Skylark, take your Hawks and fight from the air." He paused in the midst of his orders, frowning as the warning howl died in a choked cry. "Veltra could be hurt," he said grimly, and seeing the horror on Edmund's face, he found himself demanding, "Philip, find the Wolf and get him to safety." As much as he disliked risking one of his own to save the Wolf, the look of relief that washed over Edmund's features was reward enough.

And then Edmund felt himself being pulled back into the banquet room, and Peter disappeared amidst the soldiers.

* * *

Lucy shivered as she pulled the dressing gown around her shoulders and sank onto the bed next to Edmund. Susan was standing at the window, even though it had been closed and locked shut, as though she could look through the wood and metal and see the battle still raging outside. Thoughts of Peter, and of his safety, weighed heavily on all their minds.

For Edmund in particular, this all was a daunting experience, because he knew that soon he would be expected to join his brother in the battle, to fight, to protect his family and his subjects. But he did not know how to fight, could not reconcile himself with taking another's life. He bit his lip, worried for Peter, for Veltra, for himself.

"It will be alright, Edmund," Lucy said, wrapping her fingers around his hand and smiling a little too brightly. "Peter has fought in other battles, you know, and it always... he comes back to us every time."

"They've never attacked here before," Susan murmured, turning towards her younger siblings. "Around here, perhaps, and certainly in the other parts of Narnia. But the Cair itself..." She slowly unclasped her necklace and set it gently on the smooth surface of the desk beside the window. She tugged idly at one strange, her mind running over darker thoughts. The defenses around the Cair were such that it would be nearly impossible for an entire army of Fell Beasts to attack from the ground. But from the air...? She had seen Bats flying in the night sky, and other nocturnal Birds. They were not protected against attacks from above.

"And they never will again," Lucy said stoutly, firmly. "We will fight them away, and... and they will not return here."

"Lucy the Valiant," Susan whispered with a faint smile.

Lucy grinned in response, and although the expression was strained, it did bring an even larger smile to her sister's face.

"Do you... have you fought in battles as well?" Edmund asked, glancing at the younger Queen.

Lucy gave a slight shrug. "Some, if I am in a place that is being attacked. But mostly it is Peter who does the fighting. Susan has a bow that Father Christmas gave her, and with it, her arrows never miss their targets." She paused, then added, "But Susan usually deals with peaceful diplomacy, not war."

"I see..."

A cry from the dark outside interrupted their quiet conversation, and all three sets of eyes snapped towards the shuttered window. Susan was the first to look away, turning her back on the window and taking a few shaky steps to the bed. She sat down next to Lucy and opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She looked down at her hands, listening to the sounds of battle.

"Have you fought in a battle?" Lucy asked, looking up at Edmund. It was upsetting that his homecoming would be so ruined by something like this, but now that the battle had already started, she could not rid the morbid thoughts and questions from her mind. She did not know this Edmund, this stranger who was supposed to be her brother, and she wondered just what his life had been like these past years.

"No," Edmund muttered, looking away. "Except for when Peter came to the Village. And even then, he fought and I... I stayed inside. Hidden."

"Well, I'm glad," Lucy said brightly, leaning against him. "That way you came back to us. Safely, and without having been hurt."

"I don't like battles," Susan said softly. "I don't like fighting."

"Sometimes it is necessary. To protect yourself and the ones you love," Lucy countered.

"Hm..." Edmund murmured, staring hard at her.

"What?" Lucy asked sharply, raising her eyes to meet his gaze.

"Nothing. I just... at first, I thought..." Edmund shook his head and trailed off into a momentary pause, before finishing, "It was nothing."

Lucy did not press the issue at first, but as Edmund continued to regard her with a searching stare, she finally, said, "It doesn't seem like nothing, Ed."

"When Peter told me about you," Edmund replied softly, "on the way back from my Village. I thought... well, you reminded me a lot of Nasada. But I guess you also aren't like her. I mean, she would never be talking about fighting being necessary. She would always believe that all Creatures could be reasoned with, if you just talked to them. You're very much like Nasada, but also different."

"Nasada?" Susan breathed.

"My sister," Edmund answered automatically.

Lucy blinked away the tears. It had not escaped her notice that Edmund's entire body relaxed as he spoke about the Village, nor did she fail to see the way his eyes lit up at the mention of this girl he called his sister. "You... you really love her," she said even as the first of the tears began to fall. She had been replaced. Perhaps Nasada was not exactly like her, but it was clear that the girl was a close enough match. Edmund had found another little sister, and she was just a shallow comparison to this stranger.

"I..." Too late, Edmund realized his error, and already Lucy had risen to her feet and pushed away from him.

"Lucy..." Susan reached out for her sister, but Lucy side-stepped and turned away. She stumbled towards the door to the adjoining room, the bath area. She passed through quickly, without looking back, and pulled the door closed behind her. Susan watched her sister depart, then turned to Edmund and hissed, "You should say something to her. Apologize."

"For what?" Edmund retorted, anger welling inside him. He had not meant to hurt Lucy with his careless words or his comparison to Nasada, and he knew in retrospect that it had been insensitive to refer to another person as his sister so soon after being reunited with these people who were actually his siblings. But it was not his fault he remembered nothing of the past, and he would not apologize for that. He was here, at the Cair, trying to be their brother, and that was not easy for him.

Susan's eyes narrowed, and once again he was hit with the sensation that she did not always live up to her title of Gentle. But when she spoke, her words were even and measured, although they were underlined with annoyance and frustration. "We're trying, Edmund. We are trying to make this work. We are trying to help you."

"I am trying as well!" Edmund snapped back. "But you do not know what it is like to suddenly find out you are a king and you have three long lost siblings who want you to leave everything you have ever known and come rule with them."

Susan swallowed back her irritation and tried her best to keep calm as she answered, "I know what it is like to suddenly find out you are a monarch, Ed. It happened to all of us when we first came to Narnia. I know it is overwhelming, but if you would just let us help you..."

"I went to the celebration," Edmund countered. "I did all the things you told me to do. I smiled, I waved, I bowed. I let Peter talk and a whole bunch of people prod and push and pull at my clothing. I even danced. But this is... this is difficult, Susan! I'm not... it is not easy for me to just..."

When he didn't finish the sentence, Susan said coolly, "It is not easy for us either. You were not there when the Bird brought us news of your death. You did not watch our hope drain away. You did not see Peter slowly fall apart as every month passed and we had yet to find your body." Her voice began to rise in volume as her temper flared, "You did not sit by Lucy's bed as she sobbed herself to sleep, or chase Peter around trying to get him just to eat something before his self-neglect caused him permanent damage. You did not have to spend weeks comforting your little sister, trying your best to convince her that, even though her other brother was away fighting our enemies, everything would be fine, while in fact you were terrified yourself." Her words stopped abruptly, and she lowered her eyes. When she raised her gaze once more, the heat and fire had not left her expression, but her words were measured, imbued with forced calm that did not fully conceal the hurt and pain. "And you have no idea what it feels like to love someone more than anything else in the entire world, and to discover that when you finally find him, miraculously alive and well, he does not even remember who you are. I know this is not easy for you, Edmund, but it is not easy for us either."

And then the conversation was abruptly halted by the entrance of Peter. The door swung open to admit the High King, and he walked into the room with a weary expression on his face and blood on his clothing. His gaze jumped from Susan's expression to Edmund's flushed face, but instead of commenting on the obvious signs of the argument, he asked, "Where's Lucy?"

Susan gestured towards the adjoining room with one hand. "Did the battle... is it over?" she asked.

Peter nodded glumly. "Yes. They mainly attacked from the air. We had some injuries, but no deaths." He slanted a quick look at Edmund and added, "Veltra sustained minor wounds, but he will be find."

"Did you recognize any of the attackers?" Lucy asked, drawn back into the room by the sound of her oldest sibling's voice. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but she offered a hesitant smile, glad to see Peter back safely.

"Yes. It was the same army as before. The Fell Beasts from the mountains."

"Did they say what they wanted? Or was it just an attack?"

"No, they were after something specific," Peter answered bitterly, placing his sword and shield on the floor by the door. He knew he should have cleaned both of them, but he was exhausted, and at that moment all he wanted was to sit with his siblings and reassure himself that those he had sworn to protect were, in fact, safe and protected.

"What?" Lucy asked, although she already knew the answer. They all did. But they waited for Peter to say it anyway, needed the verbal confirmation that this nightmare was not yet over.

"Edmund," Peter answered quietly. "They're after Edmund."

* * *

Next Chapter: In an awkward attempt to make amends with Lucy, Edmund puts his foot in his mouth - several times - while Peter's introduction of Veltra causes havoc among the scouts and soldiers in _Chapter Eleven: Echo_.


	12. Echo

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So sorry for the delay. I'd love to have an excuse for it, but the most I can say is that I had computer and Internet troubles, and then was just lazy trying to fix everything... But I should be back on track now.

Summary: In an awkward attempt to make amends with Lucy, Edmund puts his foot in his mouth - several times - while Peter's introduction of Veltra causes havoc among the scouts and soldiers

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Echo

_Echo, echo...  
We come, we go  
No I don't want to be just another  
Echo, echo...  
It's just another day  
And every single word I say fades out..._

- Vertical Horizon, "Echo"

"Are you sure you wish to come with me, Edmund?" Lucy asked a little uneasily.

"Yes. I am sure," Edmund answered firmly, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Lucy bit her lip, looking reluctant, but finally nodded. "Oh... well, alright then. Come along." And she led him out of the castle and into the early morning sun.

Edmund, after watching the way his two sisters had reacted to the news of the Fell Beasts target - himself - had realized that, in some ways, Susan was right. He did not know what they were feeling, did not know how hard all of this had been for them. Peter's revelation, which had come as no surprise, had set the two of them into a frenzy of movement. Susan had fussed over him, barely leaving him alone, and Lucy had hugged him tightly and promised that no one would ever hurt him again. The sincerity and honesty of their emotion had surprised him, and that was all it had taken for him to realize that he needed to give them credit for their effort.

They did love him.

Lucy had planned to spend the day visiting with a friend of hers - a Mr. Tumnus, who Edmund was fairly certain was the faun he had met the night before - and Edmund had suggested that he join her if she was not opposed to the extra company. Lucy had practically beamed when he asked her to accompany her, and he had felt a tiny ray of warmth blossom in his chest at the sight of her smile.

He had known that her decision to visit the satyr had to do with his careless words from the night before. Although he would never actually say this to her, even without remembering Lucy, it was still ridiculously easy for him to read the emotions that played across her almost-constantly smiling face. She had wanted to give him some space, an attempt to make it easier for him to adjust to this new life. Unlike Susan and Peter, who hovered around him constantly throughout the night, Lucy had taken it upon herself to do what she thought he wanted, regardless of how she felt about it.

He had not missed the pained look that flickered through her eyes when she announced her intentions of leaving her three siblings for the morning.

Nor had he missed Susan's gently encouraging smile at his words.

It struck a chord with him, and that both pleased and bothered him. On the one hand, he knew these three rulers were his siblings, and so he knew he should feel relieved that he had such a instinctual reaction to their emotions. It was what siblings did, after all. They cared for each other, cared about each other. And yet... and yet he already had a family, and somehow it still felt like a betrayal to replace Dar, Sera, and Nasada with these strangers he did not even know.

He had been contemplating this ever since waking in the very early hours of the morning - or was it the late hours of the previous night? - and finding Susan sleeping with her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, Lucy sprawled across his legs, and Peter standing by the window, watching over them all.

"What are you thinking about, Edmund?" Lucy's upbeat voice cut into his thoughts.

He turned and looked at her, smiling faintly. "How uncomfortable it must have been for you to sleep spread out across my legs like that..."

Lucy giggled. "Probably more uncomfortable for you. Did you even have feeling in your legs when you awoke this morning?"

"You're not so big, you know," Edmund teased in reply, the words coming easily. It was remarkable, how simple it was speaking with Lucy. There was something about her that made her far easier to speak to than either of his older siblings. When Peter looked at him, it was as though he was looking for someone who was no longer there. When Susan spoke to him, it was with the tone of someone who expected to be remembered even though she knew she was not. But with Lucy... the girl seemed pleased just to be in his presence, regardless of who and what he did and did not remember.

"I'm big enough," Lucy retorted, grinning.

"No," Edmund countered, the words falling carelessly from his lips, "you're not much more than a baby."

His seemingly innocuous comment was enough to bring the conversation to a screeching halt, and he could not shake the feeling that he had done something very wrong. "What?" he asked, when Lucy looked away. "What's wrong? Did I say something I should not have?"

A pause, then Lucy looked back at him, reaching for his hand. "No. No, it is fine, Edmund." But the tears in her eyes spoke volumes that she seemed reluctant to say, and Edmund knew that he had said something, something that inadvertently upset her.

"Lucy, I... I'm sorry. For whatever it is I said that... that upset you. I didn't mean it."

"I know," Lucy said, shaking her head. "It's just... it startled me is all. You used to call me a baby back... back in England. Before we came here. When you were annoyed with me, that's what you would call me."

"How could I ever be annoyed with you?" Edmund asked, and truly meant it. It seemed unfathomable to him that this small bundle of joy and energy could ever cause him enough annoyance that he would retaliate with harsh and hurtful words. It was not in his nature to speak to anyone that way, least of all a family member, someone he was sure he must have loved greatly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large Cheetah trailing him, staying well-hidden amidst the tall grasses and trees. The Cheetah had been following since they left the Cair, and Edmund had to admit that he was a little surprised Peter had not sent an entire army to keep close watch over him. Still, he had no doubt that there were several other Animals, perhaps Birds or some arboreal Beast, watching over him. He had seen a Hawk following him, circling back and forth in the sky high above. How many more were there?

Lucy shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore," she said staunchly, offering another tentative smile. "It is in the past. I know you did not mean anything by your comment."

"No, it was clearly just the lack of oxygen in my brain that mad me say that," Edmund muttered. At Lucy's confused look, he elaborated, "You know, because no blood reached my brain. It was all trapped in my legs do to your outrageously heavy body cutting off all circulation."

Lucy laughed, and Edmund let out a relieved sigh, thankful that his earlier words no longer seemed to upset her. It was quite remarkable how quickly she was able to forget a perceived slight. She really did remind him of Nasada... but, then again, Nasada had always been able to forgive anything because no one ever meant her harm. Lucy was quite different, because Lucy had been faced with dangerous enemies since the moment she entered Narnia and found Jadis already determined to kill any human she caught.

"It is Susan you have to blame for that, Ed, as she was the one lying on your chest and probably constricting your lungs..." Lucy replied finally.

They paused at the edge of a meadow. Across the clearing, in the shade of several trees, a picnic was spread out on the grass. The faun was sitting beside the picnic, and had not yet caught sight of the two approaching siblings. Edmund stopped, suddenly worried that perhaps this had been a bad idea, maybe he would be out of place, maybe he would say or do something to embarrass himself.

"Um... Lucy..."

She turned towards him, realization and sympathy dawning in her eyes as she saw his stricken expression. "Come, Edmund. Mr. Tumnus is one of my best friends and you will like him as well. There is nothing to fear."

Edmund barely managed to keep the sarcastic response from his lips as he followed his younger sister towards the satyr. He had a strange feeling of a premonition, a thought that there was quite a lot to fear around here, and that he was not going to be safe for a very long time. But whether it the was the strange faun or some other threat looming over him, he did not know.

The faun turned as they approached, moving to greet them with a slightly-forced smile for Edmund. The smile did not quite reach his eyes, and Edmund noticed this almost instantly. His conversation from the night before played through his mind once again, and he could not help but wonder if there was more to his first meeting with this Mr. Tumnus than the others had told him. Still, when the satyr turned to Lucy, his smile was broad and true, his eyes lighting up with honest affection. Lucy returned the emotion with her own joyous grin and a quick hug for her friend, and the warmth in her eyes was so evident that Edmund could not help but feel just a tiny bit jealous.

Which was such a strange emotion that he simply stood there, gaping in confusion at his own feelings. How could he be jealous when only a few days ago he had resented these strangers who claimed to be family and wanted nothing more than for them to leave him alone? What did he care if Lucy gave her attention to someone else?

"King Edmund," Mr. Tumnus said formally, inclining his head. "We meet again."

"Yes," Edmund agreed, swallowing anxiously.

"I can only hope this meeting ends far better than the last," the faun offered, some sort of proverbial olive branch to the young soon-to-be-king.

Edmund jumped on the subject eagerly, glad to have something he could speak about. "Indeed. We seem to be well guarded here, and no doubt Peter has the entire army ready to intervene at a moment's notice."

Mr. Tumnus smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "It is good to see that even without your memory you have been so successful at understanding and predicting the High King's actions." It was a teasing comment, and Lucy laughed appropriately as they all took a seat around the picnic. Peter's overprotective behavior towards his sisters was legend throughout Narnia, but Lucy knew that it would be nothing compared to what Peter would do now every time Edmund was in the least bit of danger. They would not lose him twice, and Peter had already appointed himself the guardian of his family.

Edmund nodded. "He is even more protective than my... than Sera. The woman I lived with in the Village."

Lucy's eyes flickered to his face, then down. "I am sorry I did not get the opportunity to meet her. Peter mentioned to Susan and I that she is very... strong-willed."

"Yes." Edmund said nothing else, but his simple one word answer was enough for the other two, and they turned their attention away from the past two years.

Lucy, bubbling with enthusiasm, began a long dictation to Mr. Tumnus about how wonderful another coronation ball would be, and how splendid everything would look, and how much the country would love to celebrate, and she was so excited about the protect of throwing yet another large party that it took Edmund several moments to realize that the coronation would be for him. By the time he did, Lucy had already finished describing, in excruciating detail, every type of food and drink they would serve, and had moved on to a delighted explanation of just how long the dancing would go into the night. Edmund was left gaping wordlessly, trying to figure out how to intervene and keep yet another party - another nightmare - from being forced upon him.

"...and have you _heard _the string quartet of the Rabbits from by Aslan's How? Oh, they are absolutely wonderful! So, of course, they will need to play after Treehoper and his group, which means at least four or five more dancing songs, and won't that just be splendid? Think of all the dancing we will have time for. You will dance with me, won't you, Mr. Tumnus. I'd love to dance with Edmund the entire time, but I just _know _that Susan will, too, so that will give me time to..."

It was somewhere around that point in her words when Edmund did finally find his voice, and he spluttered, "But I don't dance!"

"Nonsense, Edmund," Lucy admonished with a firm shake of her head. "Everybody dances. But it is alright if you don't know how, Susan or I can teach you."

"Uh..." He threw a desperate glance at the faun, but Mr. Tumnus was too busy staring at Lucy to see Edmund's silent plea for help, so the dark-haired boy was left grasping at vague words in an attempt to extricate himself from this mess. "I don't know, Lucy. I just... dancing is not really... well, I just..."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," Lucy said, patting his hand gently. "You will love it, you just need to have an open mind about everything."

"But I don't want to dance. Dancing is for girls!"

Lucy froze, eyes opening comically at Edmund's comment, and he knew instantly it had been the wrong thing to say. She seemed to stay like that for several seconds, trying her best to come up with some sort of response, before Mr. Tumnus cut in succinctly, "You cannot partner dance without both boys and girls, Sire."

Edmund nodded slowly. "I... did I upset you, Lucy? I did not mean to..."

"No. No, it is alright, Edmund."

"It's just... well, back... back in the Village, when we had celebrations... dancing... only woman and girls did that. It was... it was just the way things where..."

"Customs are different in different parts of the world, Sire, and in different parts of Narnia. But Queen Lucy is right, you will love dancing if you just keep an open mind about it," Mr. Tumnus said. His tone was quiet, but his eyes flashed with the slightest bit of anger, and Edmund had a suspicion that it was because of the hurt he had inadvertently caused Lucy. Twice already he had said the wrong thing. Perhaps it would be better not to speak at all.

"Come, let us have some tea," Lucy said finally, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. Mr. Tumnus responded instantly by placing a teacup in front of her and Edmund, and then setting out one for himself. The hot liquid was poured into each cup, and milk or sugar added appropriately, before Lucy spoke again. "You did not put sugar in your tea, Edmund."

"Oh... am I supposed to? I usually only drink it with milk," Edmund explained, frowning. Was this some new custom he would need to endure? Did everyone put sugar in their tea at the Cair? Was it like dancing, would he need to learn to appreciate it?

"No... no, it is fine," Lucy hurried to assure him.

But the look in her eyes was enough to convey to Edmund what the problem was, and he sighed inwardly. How much longer would this happen?

"Ed, I am not... I am not trying to tell you that you should like sugar," Lucy said quickly, correctly reading his own expression. "It does not matter to me that you drank sugar with your tea before... before Jadis. You have changed now, and that is fine. I am just glad that you are here, I don't... It's just tea. It doesn't really matter." And her words, while neither strong nor eloquent, were clearly directly from her heart, and that was enough for Edmund.

"I know, Lu."

She blinked, startled. "You called me Lu?"

"Yes, I... I don't know why. I'm sorry, Lucy, I... it just slipped out." He shrugged, trying to show his own confusion. He thought that was her nickname, but he hadn't been intentionally trying to refer to her as such. It had, truthfully, simply rolled off his tongue, and it was not until he had finished speaking that he even realized what he had said.

But she beamed. "It is quite alright, Edmund. You can call me that all you want."

* * *

Already, Peter knew it would be a long day.

The unyielding glare of the sun beat down upon his blonde hair. Beads of sweat formed at his temples. The heat, although not entirely unexpected, still felt stranger after his time in the perpetually-frozen mountains. He wondered, vaguely, how Edmund was coping with the temperature. But thoughts of his brother brought his mind back to the subject of the afternoon's unpleasant task, and once again, he knew it was going to be a very, very long day.

He glanced casually over at Veltra. The Wolf had only been mildly injured in the previous night's attack, and so he was moving about with little restrictions, pawing at the ground.

"Relax," Peter snapped, a little annoyed. "Breathe. At least try to _appear _calm."

"Forgive me, your Majesty," Veltra sneered, "but the past few days have been enough to convince me never to relax. At least not around those who will undoubtedly view me as the enemy."

"Then do not give them a reason to view you as such."

Veltra gave what Peter could only assume was the Wolf's equivalent of a wry smirk. as he answered pointedly, "I am a Wolf. For many, that is reason enough. And how would you have me change that?"

Peter looked away with a heavy sigh. Yes, it was going to be a very long day.

He had made a last minute decision to introduce Veltra only to members of Edmund's newly created guard, and not to the entire army or any of the others living in or around Cair Paravel. News of the Wolf's presence had spread quickly, and he knew from rumors delivered to him by Philip, Oreius, and Susan that the Wolf would not be welcomed with open arms. And while he had little doubt of Veltra's ability to take care of himself, he also knew that any problems that arose would ultimately find their way back to Edmund. And, reluctant though he was to do anything at all to help the Wolf, he knew he would do whatever necessary to keep Edmund away from such complications.

There were only fifteen in Edmund's guard - sixteen if he counted Veltra - and the Wolf would have a far easier time dealing with the smaller group. Philip in particular had agreed to be in the guard, and the Stallion would keep an open mind about the Wolf. It would be helpful, as the Horse was well-respected, and therefore his actions would most likely be emulated by at least a few of the others. It would not be enough to allow Veltra to be smoothly or even semi-easily accepted by the rest of Narnia, but it was the best Peter could do, and, at the moment, it would need to be enough.

Edmund's guard approached, drawing Peter's thoughts away from the Wolf and to the fifteen Animals and Beasts arrayed before him. They stood, stiff and silent, eyes boring deep into his face. A few large Cats, an Elk, a small Black Bear, two Centaurs, a satyr, Philip... The modest number was not to Peter's liking. He would have preferred hundreds of soldiers fighting alongside his brother, keeping him safe and alive. But, as Susan had rightly pointed out, the numbers would only serve to overwhelm their already over-wrought brother. So Peter had forced himself to be content with picking fifteen fiercely loyal subjects, and hoping that their bravery, courage, and cunning would be enough for the next few days.

And if he had to send a few of his well-trained scouts to tail Edmund around as well...

There was an entire army of Fell Beasts after his brother, and that Hag had almost fulfilled her threat back in the Village. He would not let Edmund come to harm, not now that he was finally back.

He looked at the Creatures before him for another moment, before stating quietly, but in a voice filled with authority, "I have asked you to join me today so that I may explain to you the necessity of having a guard for my brother in this dangerous time. As you are all aware, an army of our enemies has already set their sights upon Edmund. I will not let them take him, and we shall not let them reclaim Narnia."

One of the Cats shifted, eyes darting to Veltra in an open snarl.

"Veltra," Peter continued smoothly, "will be joining your ranks."

They were well-trained soldiers, that much was obvious from the way in which they barely moved even as they registered shock and distaste. One of the centaurs looked away, the satyr shifted uneasily.

Peter hesitated, swallowing back his own displeasure and frustration at the situation. After the attack the previous night, he had hand-picked each of these fighters, approaching them with requests for their help. They had all agreed at once, barely even pausing to hear his explanations. It had been clear that they loved Edmund, despite not even knowing the boy, and were determined to protect him. He was one of Aslan's chosen monarchs, and a true friend to Narnia, and that had been more than enough to convince them to join the guard.

But they did not like Veltra.

He could not blame them, he did not like Veltra either. No matter what Edmund might say, and no matter that Veltra had yet to show any sign of true hostility towards the Narnians, Peter doubted that he would ever truly be able to look past the fact that Veltra was a Wolf. His brethren had done far too much in the past few years, taunting him, mocking him...

_Peter shrugged off his armor and ran a hand over his arm. It was bruised, but did not appear to be injured too severely. He knew he was lucky, the blow he had taken could have easily snapped his entire arm in two. And he could only imagine what Susan would say and do if he were to return to the castle with a broken arm._

_She would be unbearable._

_And Lucy would hardly be any better._

_They had not wanted him to go on this campaign, and in truth, he had not wanted to leave them. But he had no choice, not while the packs of Wolves wreaked terror and havoc upon their unsuspecting victims. The first of the rumors had come only a few weeks ago, and in the short time since he had heard of their activity, the Wolves had already managed to destroy the entire southern half of the Shuddering Wood, killing any Creature that came across their path. No one knew if they were after anything in particular, or if this was simply sport for the bloodthirsty animals, but Peter was determined to put a stop to it. _

_And that determination had brought him here, to numerous battles in the pouring rain._

_He silently cursed herself for letting his guard down, for not seeing the Wolf that had attacked from behind, sending him flying into the trees. His lack of foresight could have gotten him killed, and he was lucky to escape with only a bruised arm._

_"Your Majesty?"_

_"I'm fine, Oreius. Thank you for your timely rescue," Peter answered as he turned towards the centaur. The General had rescued him, effectively stopping the Wolf with a spear through the chest. The Beast had given a pained howl before collapsing to the muddy ground, blood mixing with the rain water. Peter frowned, shooting a quick glance at the dead body. "I did not see him."_

_"I know. You would do well to be more aware of your surroundings next time. We will work on this."_

_Peter only barely managed to keep from groaning allowed at Oreius' remark. He had a feeling he would be quite a bit more bruised and sore by the time the General was done with his training._

_"King Peter, General Oreius," a deer approached, making her way swiftly through the trees, "the rest of the Wolves are dead or retreating. The scouts are returning now, per your orders not to follow the Wolves. They shall be here soon, I was instructed to bring news to you."_

_"Good. Well delivered, Swiftfoot," Peter answered with a firm nod. He did not want to follow the Wolves just in case they would be lead directly into a trap. These creatures were cunning, perhaps the most dangerous of the Witch's supporters. They had already taken Edmund, and Peter would never underestimate them. Not when his soldiers, his subjects, or - Aslan forbid it - his sisters might be in danger from them._

_"So then you are a cowardly king, just as much as you are an impostor..." a voice sneered from the darkness of the trees._

_Peter turned sharply, sword gripped tightly in his right hand. It was dark, and though the rain had lessened, the perpetual drizzle was enough to obscure his vision. He could not see the Wolf clearly, just an outline slinking through the trees. Oreius took a few steps until he had placed himself between his king and the enemy, but no sooner had he done that then another voice issued from the trees, from the opposite side._

_"Look, the little king needs someone else to fight his battles."_

_It was cold and mocking, fiercely dangerous. Peter forced himself to stay calm, squinting in an attempt to determine if there were others besides the two. How many enemies was he facing?_

_"Of course he does. What kind of king can he truly be? He could not even protect his own flesh and blood, how can he be in charge of an entire country?" the first Wolf sneered. "Tell me, did the younger Son of Adam scream when he died?"_

_The second Wolf answered with a harsh laugh, "I heard he cried for his brother to save him."_

_"Ah... but his brother did not save him, did he?"_

_"Enough!" Oreius bellowed, sizing his spear from where it lay discarded, still impaled in the other Wolf he had killed. He lifted the sword, snatching it free of fur and flesh, and threw it with incredible accuracy into the trees. Had Peter not been so overcome with fury and hatred, he might have stopped to marvel at Oreius' skill, at his ability to kill an enemy they could barely even see. But he did not admire that. He was far too wrapped up in his own simmering guilt and bubbling wrath to notice anything around him except the one Wolf still alive, one he was determined to kill._

_And he did, although it had been a brutal fight and he really had broken his arm that time around._

_Susan had been quite displeased._

So Peter could hardly blame the others for their prejudices. He understood hatred, and how it could be motivated by a desire to protect the ones he loved. But the scouts had to tolerate Veltra. For Edmund's sake, they had to accept him as another member of this guard, had to include him as one of their own.

"Are there any problems with this assignment?" Peter asked, letting his gaze wander across those gathered before him. "Are there any who do not feel they can accept the demands of this position?"

"Perhaps you should ask the Wolf, your Majesty," one of the centaurs suggested dryly. "None of us have problems with your instructions, and we will keep King Edmund safe from every danger, even if it should cost us our lives. But does this... Veltra... feel the same?"

Peter smiled inwardly, but refused to let his amusement show. The centaur had managed to insult Veltra, and thereby disobey Peter's instructions, and yet had done it in a way that had left Peter no ability to reproach him. He could not argue with someone who was merely expressing his concern for Edmund's wellbeing.

"I have no problems with it, pony," Veltra snapped in reply. He might not have lived among Narnians before, but he knew enough to know that referring to a centaur as a pony or horse was an egregious insult, and Peter shook his head at what was either Veltra's formidable bravery or incredible stupidity.

The centaur stiffened. "What did you call me?"

Peter interrupted before further argument could break out. "There will be no arguing, no dissent, and certainly no insults among the sixteen of you. And entire army has targeted my brother, and we do not know what magics they may have at their disposal." A silence fell, although the centaur was still seething and Veltra had his teeth barred in a quiet snarl. Peter pretended not to notice as he continued, "This army means to kill Edmund, and by doing so, completely destroy this country. I am therefore placing the safety of both my brother and Narnia in your hands. I must know that I can trust you to honor that."

"You can trust me," Veltra said firmly. "You should not even need to ask it, _your Majesty_."

Peter inclined his head. "Then I can trust that all of you will remain civil towards each other at all times?"

"What have I done wrong?" Veltra retorted. "What have I done but protect Edmund since he came to our Village? I am not his enemy, and therefore neither am I yours." He turned towards the others. "If you mean to protect Edmund, our goals are similar. I have no quarrel with any of you."

"You have already insulted me," the centaur whom Veltra had called a pony replied haughtily. "It seems you do have a quarrel with us."

"As you have one with me."

"There were no Wolves on our side," one of the large Cats interjected. "In the war against the Witch, their were no Wolves on our side. Perhaps if your kind had ever shown even the slightest inclination of joining us, we would feel more inclined to trust you. But all your brethren have done is cause us pain."

Peter remembered abruptly that the Cat's entire family, including his mate and cubs, had been killed by Wolves, massacred in their own home.

"Indeed. Tell me, Wolf, are there others of your kind in this army of Fell Beasts that plans to attack us? Are there other Wolves who wish to harm King Edmund?" When Veltra did not answer, the Elk continued, "How do we know you are not a spy for them?"

"That is enough," Peter said sternly, frowning. "If you cannot be civil..." He did not finish the sentence, but left it dangling in the air, a threat to anyone who dared disobey his direct order.

A tense silence, then...

"I have no quarrel with you, Veltra," Philip offered, speaking for the first time. "I give you the benefit of the doubt. If you are on our side, I will protect you as I would protect any other. If you are an enemy, I will act towards you as I would act towards any enemy... and I would kill you."

Veltra barred his teeth in a grin, unafraid. "I can live with that, Horse."

Philip's comment seemed to ease the tension slightly, but as Peter walked away from the others, he could still hear the snide comments and sharp bickering that floated on the wind, following him. He wondered, not for the first time, if allowing Veltra to return with them was a good idea. And he wondered, not for the last time, when Aslan would arrive.

* * *

Edmund poses a question that neither Susan nor Lucy wish to answer, and Peter finally finds some common ground with Veltra. But will the truce last when a Hag comes to Cair Paravel, bringing proclamations of Edmund's doom with her in _Chapter Twelve: Shipwrecked_?


	13. Shipwrecked

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Shipwrecked

_Low beyond horizon lines across the salty sea  
A boat without a captain makes its way to some city  
He prays that it would sail its course to lover or to kin  
And fan a thirst for searching and finding him again_

_-Jars of Clay, "Shipwrecked"_

"Susan? May I ask you a question?"

Susan turned, a little surprised to find Edmund standing behind her. She had been leaning against the balcony railing, staring out at the ocean, lost in contemplation. But now that Edmund was here, she quickly pushed aside her thoughts and gave him a wide smile. "Of course."

"Why is Aslan not here?"

She frowned, the lines on her forehead becoming more pronounced. "What do you mean?"

Edmund hesitated, appearing slightly uncomfortable, as though he did not know how to continue the conversation. After a moment of floundering, however, he managed to ask cautiously, "Why is Aslan not here for the coronation ceremony? Peter said... Peter said that Aslan needed to come... that I could not be crowned king and the prophesy could not be fulfilled until the Great Lion came. So... where is he?"

"I don't know, Ed," Susan answered gently, resting a hand on his elbow and guiding him firmly to her side. "Aslan works in his own manner, and we cannot expect to truly understand everything. He will come when He comes, when it is the right time for Him, for us, for Narnia."

"Oh... So, then... it was not anything I did?"

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"I thought, perhaps, he was displeased by something I had done," Edmund confided, looking a little worried.

Susan flinched, but tried her best to remain calm as she asked cautiously, "What was it you thought you had done?"

"I don't know," Edmund admitted, his tone reluctant. "It's just..." He shook his head and looked out over the water. Susan watched him closely, waiting to see how he would respond to her question, and at last he murmured, "There was this Hag... she said things to me. Strange things. My blood, she said, belongs to the Witch. To Jadis." He ran a hand through his hair. "When I asked Peter about it, he said he did not know. But he seemed... concerned. He does know something, Susan. What is it?"

She did not answer right away. It was not a question she wished to answer, because the past was gone now, and there was no use dwelling on what had happened. Besides, as long as Edmund did not remember any of it, they could hardly hold him responsible for past deeds, so why would they burden him with the knowledge of all that had happened. And yet, if the Hag believed that she had some claim to Edmund's life, then they could not entirely ignore the issue either.

"Susan?"

She looked at the stormy gray eyes regarding her, and wished fervently that she did not have to answer. But he was waiting expectantly, and so she found herself answering, "He knows that he cannot lose you again, Edmund. And that Jadis and her followers are still dangerous, even now. He _is _worried. We are all worried."

"But... if I were crowned king, then the prophesy would be completely broken. And the Fell Beasts could kill me, but they still would not have the power or influence they wanted, because..."

"Edmund!" Susan interrupted, horrified. "How can you talk so carelessly about your own death?"

"Because," Edmund pushed on relentlessly, "if I were crowned, my life would not be as important. Do you not see, Susan? It is in Narnia's best interests for me to be crowned as quickly as possible, particularly in the face of these continued attacks. So why would Aslan not come, unless he does not believe me worthy of the throne?"

"That's ridiculous," Susan answered faintly, swallowing back her own fears. "How can you even think this?"

"How can I not?" he challenged.

She dropped her gaze. The wind was blowing, and the sun was slowly setting over the horizon. The air was cool, and she shivered despite the warmth of her dress. It was his first full day back at Cair Paravel, back among his siblings, and already her brother was worried about his worthiness. But the look on his face as he spoke, the mixture of confusion and defiance, was so familiar that for a moment she thought he might have remembered some of his past. But she dismissed the idea quickly, because if he had remembered, she was sure he would have mentioned it.

Still, the way he faced her now, refusing to back down and yet desperately needing some kind of reassurance... it reminded her of how he had been before Narnia, back in London.

_He was sitting on his bed, holding the photograph of their father between his hands. She was sure he would have noticed her presence by now, but he did not look up at her, and so she remained standing in the doorway, watching the anger and resentment burning in his eyes.  
_

_"He's important."  
_

_She looked at him sharply. The words were so quiet she was almost unsure that he had actually spoken. But he finally lifted his face to meet her own, and she could see the pain in his expression. It was quick, and replaced a moment later by cold defiance, but she had seen it.  
_

_"Who are you speaking about, Edmund?"  
_

_He held up the photograph, as though displaying it. "Dad."  
_

_It was the photograph he had snatched from the house during the raid the night before. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how her younger brother had rushed backwards, away from the shelter, seeking out that last memento of their father. She remembered her mother's fearful cry and Lucy's soft whimper as Edmund slid beyond their grasp. Remembered how Peter had forcefully dragged the younger boy back into the safety of the shelter, remembered the exasperated cry - can't you ever do as you're told? - that slipped from Peter's lips._

_  
"It was dangerous to go back, Edmund. And just for a picture."  
_

_"It's not just a picture!" Edmund seethed, rising to his feet. "Peter acts like he's Dad, like he can just fill our father's shoes! But he's not Dad, and he never will be. It's not just a picture, Susan! It's all we have left now that he's gone."  
_

_"We have each other," she answered. "And we have Mum."  
_

_"That's not enough!" he retorted hotly. "Not without Dad. Why isn't the photograph important to you also? Why don't you want to save it?"  
_

_"Because it isn't Dad, Ed! It's just a picture."  
_

_"It's all we have now."  
_

_His anger had faded from the red-hot fury to something more easily contained, and although she could see it brimming in his eyes, he was no longer yelling at her. But there was a desperation in his voice, a need for her to agree that this was important, a need for him not to be the only one who missed their father so much. She could see it, plain as day, but what reassurance could she give? It was just a photograph, it wasn't their father, and it was not worth any of their lives to protect it. For all its sentimental value, she would easily rather lose the picture than lose her brother.  
_

_"He'll come back, Ed."  
_

_He looked at her and did not answer.  
_

She had not been able to offer him comfort then, and even now she knew she was failing the task she had been given. She was his older sister, and she was supposed to make him feel safe and at home, but she could not. Because there was nothing she could say to take away the fear or the pain.

And yet he was still waiting for her to speak.

"Edmund... I do not know Aslan's plans, nor can I speak for His intentions. But this prophesy was about the four of us, and you are worthy to sit on that throne. Whatever might be delaying Him from coming to us, it is not you."

The irony was that she knew so clearly that he did not want the throne. He wanted to return to his peaceful home in the mountains, far from life at Cair Paravel, far from the concerns of ruling a land. He would have been content to never become king, but now that he had been informed that this was his destiny, now that he had been torn away from what he wanted and thrust into this new life, he was being kept from the very thing he had been told was so important, and he had no idea why. It was as though Fate was playing a cruel trick on him.

"You do not know that. You said yourself, you do not know His plans."

She smiled suddenly, putting both her hands on his shoulders and staring straight into his wide eyes. "No, Edmund, I do not know Aslan, his reasons, his plans, or his hidden thoughts. But I know _you_. I know who you are and what you can do. And I know that you will make a wonderful king."

He did not seem convinced, but he bowed his head anyway.

* * *

"Lucy, may I ask you a question?"

The youngest of the rulers turned in surprise at her brother's approach, but beamed happily all the same. "Of course you can, Edmund," she answered, bobbing her head eagerly. Their picnic with Mr. Tumnus had gone fairly well, although Edmund had stumbled through most of it, and yet he had opted to leave her once they returned to the castle. It was not long after sunset, and although Edmund had appeared in time to have dinner with them, he had said little to her since then. She knew he was still overwhelmed by everything around him, and they had purposefully tried to keep the day from spiraling out of control. Visitors were limited and all non-essential business was canceled.

"Do you know Aslan well?"

Lucy shrugged and reached out for Edmund's hand, pulling him towards her. They were in the library, and several books were displayed before her. He caught a brief glance at what she was reading, but from the blank expression on his face, she knew none of it interested him.

"Lucy?"

She sighed. "I suppose I know Him as well as any of us can. Why do you want to know this, Ed?"

"I thought maybe you could explain something to me. Peter cannot seem to answer my questions, and Susan has little insight to add about Him. But you..." He gave an inarticulate mutter, trailing off as he waited for her to respond.

"What do you need explained?" Lucy asked with another shrug. Edmund took the seat across from her at the table, and she pushed the books aside, giving him her full attention. She did not like the look in his eyes, but she could not put into words what it was that bothered her so much. Still, the uneasy feeling grew, and her concerns were confirmed by his next words.

"Why did Aslan choose _me_?"

It was a fair question, and one she had often asked herself in the weeks after the coronation. She still felt like such a little girl, and the loss of Edmund had only amplified that feeling, adding to her doubts about her adequacy on the throne. So it did not come as any surprise that Edmund was finally asking that question, but she did not like his tone, did not like the faint stress on the word 'me.' He was not asking why the four of them had been chosen, or why Aslan would have sought out humans for this task. He was asking specifically about himself, as though he believed there was something wrong with him. It was not the question of an overwhelmed child, but rather that of a self-doubting adult.

She did not like it at all.

"He must have seen something in all of us," she answered finally, leaning her elbows on the table. "How can any of us begin to comprehend His plans?"

"But then... what is He waiting for?" Edmund questioned. "He has not come, has not yet shown Himself to me. What is it he expects from me first? What must I do?"

Lucy accepted his inquiry in silence, mulling over the answers. She knew that she had always been the one to have the most faith, to believe the hardest in all the good things in the world. She was the one to trust Mr. Tumnus even after he admitted that his original intent was to turn her over to the Witch. She was the first to find Narnia, the first to fall in love with it when both Peter and Susan resisted. And after Edmund's disappearance, she was the one who clung most tightly to hope and faith and Aslan, even as Peter let his anger drive him to recklessness and Susan let her grief pull her towards doubt.

But that did not mean she never questioned Aslan. That did not mean she did not ever harbor resentment for the Great Lion, or for the Narnians she had sworn to protect. And it did not mean that she had an answer for Edmund's questions.

"I don't know," she admitted, feeling abashed that she could not offer anything more than those simple and empty words. Edmund looked away, and she studied his profile. He was tense and unsure and clearly felt so awkwardly out-of-place. "Perhaps He does not expect anything," she murmured. "Perhaps He is merely doing things in His own time and at His own pace."

"No," Edmund said with sudden confidence, "there is more to it than that. I feel as though I have done something against Him."

"That is nonsense." She could not tell him of his first betrayal, could not tell him that he had offered his siblings to the Witch in exchange for dessert.

But he seemed to see the truth in her eyes, and he asked curiously, "Is it, Lucy?"

"Why are you worrying about this now?" she countered.

He tried to answer, but his words seemed confused, and she knew he was having difficulty explaining it even to himself. Still, the emotion was there, and so obvious, that she could almost feel his bewildered pain.

"I... I did not want to leave all that I had known. But Peter said... said that it was important to Narnia... and I knew I had to do the right thing. I could not... could not deprive Narnia of... of a chance to be... fully freed from the Witch. And I saw... I saw how much Peter loved me and I thought... well, how could I stay away from my siblings if my absence was... was so horrible for them? But I... I have not saved Narnia, nor have I... helped you. I know you are happy to have me back, but it seems that I keep... causing trouble. Being attacked, or saying the wrong thing. And yet... I tried to do my best, and if that was not enough for Aslan... what does He want from me? And how does He know I can give it?"

She reached across the table and caught both his hands in her smaller ones, squeezing tightly. "You are wrong, Ed. You have helped us, more than you could possibly imagine. You are here, and we love you, and... you have not caused any trouble that we do not gladly accept. There is nothing in the world we could not face, now that you are here. But you have only been here one day, and you cannot expect everything to fix itself so quickly. All that we loved, that we cherish, that we are willing to fight to achieve and protect... all those things take time. You must be patient. You are here now, and everything else will come when it comes. Including Aslan."

She did not tell him that she was terrified the army of Fell Beasts would kill him before Aslan arrived. She did not tell him that Peter and Susan were concerned Jadis might still have some hold over him. They were her burdens to bear, not his.

And yet, she could not help but suspect that he already knew all of those fears.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Veltra yawned as he looked up at the High King. The meeting with the rest of Edmund's guard had not gone incredibly well, but he had expected nothing less from the suspicious Narnians. And, thinking of what his brethren had done in the name of the Witch, he could not honestly blame them for their bitter feelings. But he was not going anywhere, not as long as Edmund was here, and the others would simply need to accept that.

"Tracking," Veltra replied, moving his eyes back to the path before him.

"Tracking?" Peter echoed.

The High King had stumbled across Veltra while walking back from some time on the training ground with Oreius, and the Wolf was not entirely thrilled by the company. Still, he could not very well go and demand that the High King of Narnia leave him alone, so he had no choice but to explain.

"We do it quite a lot in the mountains. Tracking prey through the snow. It's difficult when the snow melts, and the tracks keep fading. Much easier here in the dirt and mud." He glanced around the clusters of trees and added, "No sudden snow banks to trap you."

"Snow banks?"

"Yes. They're quite a threat. Edmund fell into them several times when he first came to the Village."

"Did he?" Peter asked, and Veltra could hear the grin in his voice. He looked at the High King again, and saw that he was nearly laughing at the image of Edmund trapped in the snow. Veltra found himself smiling as well, revealing his two rows of pointed teeth. It _had _been funny.

He sobered quickly though, when he realized that this was Peter he was reminiscing with, and not Dar or Sera. Although he did not want to be considered as prejudiced against the Narnains as they were against him, he still did not like them. And Peter was no exception.

"What happened?" Peter asked, curious.

"Hmm... The first time it was only about a month after Edmund had arrived, and Dar was trying to teach him how to navigate through the woods around the Village. He was so eager to prove that he could do it, that he was fine on his own... I don't think he even realized quite what had happened until he'd walked directly into the bank. The snow was so soft that he sank up to his waist. He tried to claw his way out, but that didn't work, it just made him sink more. Dar had to fish him out with some branches cut from the nearby trees. Edmund was mortified by the entire experience."

Peter laughed outright at that. "I did something like that once," he admitted slowly, blushing darkly. "I was leading a charge across a river near the Ettin border and... well, the current was a little too strong for me..."

Veltra gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "It's because you only have two feet, your Majesty. With four, it is much easier to keep track of where the ground is."  
Peter nodded slowly. "I suppose," he agreed.

It was the first civil conversation the two had had since their first meeting, and it was over nothing at all of substance or consequence. But it was a step, and as Veltra watched the High King walk away, he had a sudden inkling of why the Son of Adam was so well-loved by his subjects.

* * *

Edmund gazed across the expanse of land at his feet. He had stumbled upon a set of turrets that jutted out from the main wall, overlooking the inner courtyard one one side and the city of Cair Paravel on the other. There were a few guards lingering on the wall, and an Eagle circled in the air overhead, yet another soldier sent to keep an eye on him. They had been following him throughout the entire day, always keeping a respectful distance, but there all the same.

The sun had almost set.

He had left Susan and Lucy both behind in the castle, and had informed Peter that he wanted to walk about on his own. He appreciated the fact that his siblings had not yet demanded he stay by their sides, apparently recognizing that he needed some time and space to adjust. Within the safety of the castle, it was less likely he could come to any harm, and they only insisted on his presence at meals.  
He let his eyes move back towards the city. Had it really only been one day? Had the celebration actually occurred just last night? It seemed like so long ago, and even longer still since he had been living in the relative peace of the Village, blissfully aware of everything outside his own mountains.

He did not like Mr. Tumnus. He thought perhaps that the faun did not like him. He was not entirely sure what it was that gave him that impression, or why he felt so much more uncomfortable around Mr. Tumnus than the other Narnians he had met, but the sensation was there, warning him.

Added to that was his own growing certainty that something had happened when he first arrived in Narnia, something his siblings were not telling him. He saw Peter's face, saw the tightening of his jaw line, saw the uncomfortable expression that flickered through his eyes every time he asked about the past. He had not been oblivious to the way Susan had refused to provide the answers he was searching for, nor had he missed how Lucy had reacted so strongly to his innocent blunders, as though he had said the same things to her in the past, and yet had meant them to be insulting.

And then there was Aslan's absence. What did it all mean? What was expected of him?

And why did he see Jadis at the celebration, why had he seen her in the tent in the Lantern Waste, why had he heard her voice in the mountains?

He had come to Cair Paravel honestly believing that it was his only option, that it was the only possible path he could take. It had not been easy, but it had still been the right decision to make. Yet now that he was here...

He could not keep the doubts at bay.

He saw it happen before he could register what exactly had happened. The Hag seemed to appear from nowhere, suddenly below him on the path leading through the city towards the castle itself. She tilted her head upwards and caught his gaze, raising one hand above her head. She was perhaps one hundred meters from him, and yet he could still feel the intensity of her glare, still somehow clearly see her piercing eyes flash with coldness.

"_Traitor_!"

He did not know if she said the world aloud. Certainly, it reverberated in his own ears, resounding with a heavy thud, sending stars bursting in front of his eyes. But the others around her stopped as well, and he realized in some vague way that they must have heard her.

The Eagle overhead swooped downwards, landing beside him on the edge of the turret, taking a protective stance, wings still spread to the sides, ready to fight.

Edmund rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out how he could see and hear so clearly when she was so far away. And yet it seemed to him suddenly unimportant, and his curiosity was replaced by a rising horror as she continued to scream at him, her words magically amplified within his own mind.

"_We will have your blood! You will come to us. As long as your blood remains unshed, this world will be at stake. The fire comes to consume you all! The prophesy is not done, and you are ours! Now and always._"

"King Edmund?"

The Eagle was speaking, but Edmund barely heard him. He had turned, now looking backwards and upwards at the castle rising above. Susan and Lucy had both appeared at a balcony on the other side of the courtyard, and yet he could see their faces clearly as well. Despite the distance separating him from his sisters, he heard Lucy's nearly silent exclamation of horror and Susan's fearful murmuring. They were both staring at the Hag, and they had both heard those harsh and vicious words.

"_You have no protection. You cannot hide! Come, little king, come to us. You are ours, you belong to the Fell Beasts! Come, join us. You cannot hide!_"

Edmund sank to his knees, gripping his temples tightly between his hands. The stone wall blocked his view of the Hag, but behind his closed eyelids, he could still see the fiery intensity of her expression.

"_You cannot hide_!"

"Begone, Hag!" a new voice yelled, a voice Edmund recognized instantly as Peter. He did not know where his brother was or how he planned to stop the Hag. He could not see Peter, could not open his eyes. Something moved over him, and he felt the flutter of feathers against his skin, but it was the Hag's voice echoing in his mind that drowned out all else.

"_You cannot hide_!"

A howl of fury, the sound of hooves slamming on the stone, galloping by the gates, a shriek of fury, the scrape of steel-on-steel as swords were drawn... snow coming in all around him, glimpses of an ice prison, a sleigh drawn by reindeer... begging for mercy, a plea to be left alone... the dizzying sensation of falling, air rushing by his closed eyes, the last futile cry for help...

A gentle, concerned, "King Edmund? Are you well?"

"_You cannot hide_!"

And then sudden, blessed silence.

Edmund opened his eyes and even as the red and orange light of the almost-set sun burst into his vision, the flashes faded and he was left grasping at them, unable to comprehend what he had seen. The feelings of fear and hatred remained, and a sudden rush of confusion and pain and loss nearly knocked him off his knees. But he rose, a little unsteadily, and looked over the wall towards the city below.  
The Hag was dead. Peter stood above her, his sword held loosely at his side, and Oreius stood behind the High King. To his left, several other soldiers had gathered, each with a weapon drawn. But the Hag had not been killed by any of them. She lay, crumpled at Peter's feet, eyes staring unseeingly at the fiery sky, a single arrow protruding from her throat.

Instinctively, Edmund turned and look upwards, towards his sisters. Susan stood on the balcony, a bow clutched tightly in her hands, a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder. Her gaze was fixed solely on the now-lifeless Hag, at the arrow she had fired, the one that had taken their enemy's life.

* * *

Peter faces his worst nightmare when Jadis finally lays her claim to Edmund's blood, but it is the more simple concerns of the rulers that have Edmund panicked in _Chapter Thirteen: Slow Me Down._


	14. Slow Me Down

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Peter faces his worst nightmare when Jadis finally lays her claim to Edmund's blood, but it is the more simple concerns of the rulers that have Edmund panicked.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Slow Me Down

_Sometimes I fear that I might disappear,  
In the blur of fast-forward, I falter again.  
Forgetting to breathe, I need to sleep, I'm getting nowhere..._

_-Emmy Rossum, "Slow Me Down"_

Edmund was many things, but he was not stupid. It did not take much at all for him to determine that his siblings were terrified of something, something having to do with the Witch.

Peter was fussing about, asking him constantly about how he felt and did he still have the ringing in his ears, while Lucy alternated between wanting to force the cordial down his throat and wanted to force some kind of food – soup, usually – into his stomach. Susan was the only one who had remained silent, but she was still watching him, her eyes never leaving his face even as he insisted that he was fine.

He wasn't fine, of course, but there was no need for them to know that.

He was curled up in a chair placed before the fireplace, absorbing the warmth from the flickering flames. As he stared into the fire, his mind began to wander back to the rush of emotions and fragments of memory that had assaulted his mind during the Hag's attack. He did not remember them clearly enough to have any idea of what they meant, except that he was very sure something important had happened in the past, and he just couldn't figure out what it was.

A comfortable silence had fallen over the four siblings as they lounged about, enjoying the brief moment of peace and unity. But the unease still lingered, and when Susan broke the silence, it was with a heavy tone of resignation.

Of course, when she spoke, nothing she said was remotely related to Jadis.

And yet it still managed to throw Edmund into a panic.

"We will need to hold court tomorrow. And Edmund will need to address our subjects."

Edmund's mouth dropped open in horror. "What?"

At the same time, Peter shot Susan a warning look and said, "Su… now is not the time."

"We cannot avoid it," Susan protested, refusing to back down. "I do not want to subject Edmund to anything he does not wish to do, Peter, any more than you do. But that does not change the fact that he has already been here for over a full day, and we have yet to formally and officially introduce him. That, combined with the Hag's words yesterday, is causing some to be anxious. We are rulers, we have an obligation to them. We must allay their fears."

"But… the party? The celebration. That wasn't… official enough?" Edmund squeaked, sounding very close to terrified. "And what do you mean by… by address? I have to _speak_?"

Susan reached across the space between him and ruffled his hair. "You need not worry overly much, Ed. It is not so difficult."

Edmund gave a slight huff of displeasure at her words. "Isn't it?" he asked anxiously. The very thought of standing before an audience and speaking about anything at all was so daunting that he thought he might pass out just from imagining it.

"Well," Lucy cut in, trying to reach some form of compromise, "perhaps Edmund could speak to smaller groups? Only a handful of Creatures at a time." She began ticking off the groups on her fingers. "His guard, obviously. His valet, his tutors, the cooks. Perhaps he should speak to Oreius separately. And Philip. And you will need to include anyone who was in the scouting party that found him in those mountains." She paused, considering the list, then added, "I think some from the Cair would be upset if they were left out. We will need to include…"

"Lu, you're listing practically everyone who lives around her," Susan said in exasperation.

Lucy flushed a light shade of pink. "I'm just trying to find alternatives," she said a little meekly, giving Edmund an apologetic glance.

"I cannot speak to people, Peter," Edmund said, now feeling something akin to fully-fledge panic. "I simply cannot do it."

"You are speaking to us right now," Peter countered. "Speaking to an audience is not so different. You just need to raise the volume of your voice."

"And try to remain composed, even if you falter over your words," Susan added.

"Really," Lucy piped up, "as long as you present yourself well, no one will notice if you say the wrong thing. They will not be listening to you anyway."

"_Lucy_!"

"Well, it's true!" the youngest of the four monarchs pouted.

"Then why do I need to speak?"

"People will be listening to you, Edmund," Peter replied, still frowning at Lucy. "Never mind what Lucy is saying. It is important that we do this, and you do need to think over what you will say."

"Wait, I have to come up with my own speech?" Edmund gaped.

"You know, you are really not helping him, Peter," Susan remarked loftily.

"Well, I don't see you offering any ideas, Susan," Peter answered in exactly the same tone.

Edmund, however, was far too busy worrying about the prospect of public speaking to listen to his bickering siblings, and so he let their words wash over him without paying much attention. He really did not believe he could do this. Wasn't it enough that he was trying to adjust to having three new family members? Did they really need to push him into ruling as well?

Besides, he was not a king. He would not be a king until Aslan came to crown him, and as that had not yet happened, and as he had no idea when it would happen, he did not see a reason for rushing headlong into some task he was sure he would not be able to successfully complete.

It was Lucy's incessant tugging on his hand that brought his attention back to the others in the room, and he focused on her just in time to hear her announce, "…and he could speak to them now!"

"What?" he asked, eyes widening. "Who? No! Definitely not." He did not even know exactly what it was she had suggested, but…

"It's a good plan," Susan agreed.

Peter nodded gravely. "Good. Then it is settled."

"Wait!" Edmund nearly cried. "What is settled? What has been decided upon?"

Three sets of surprised eyes turned towards him. "Haven't you been _listening_?" Susan demanded, looking a little annoyed.

Edmund seriously considered reply in the negative, but when he caught sight of the stern look in her eyes, he came to the quick conclusion that a little white lie might be better for all involved. "Yes, of course," he said assuredly, "but I just… I am not so sure of this."

Susan sighed and reached out towards him once more, this time to catch his hand. "Ed, we were all nervous when we first had to speak in front of large audiences or perform any other type of royal duty. The difference is that then the three of us did not have others who had been in our positions and could offer help. We had Oreius, yes, and, of course, Aslan before he left. But it was not the same, you see, not like having someone who really understood how we felt. But you do have that. You have us. And we can help you if you will just let us."

As always, Edmund found himself at a loss for words. Susan had that effect on him, making him tongue-tied and unable to respond. Unlike Lucy's endearing eagerness and Peter's firm expectations, there was sometimes something a little disconcerting in Susan's tone. He was often struck with the uncharitable thought that his siblings did not have any understanding of how difficult this was for him, that they were thinking only of themselves and their own happiness. But, on a few rare occasions, she would say something to him, and he would think that, perhaps, she really did understand how he felt after all.

He was not facing this alone. They were still there with him.

Then again, they would not be the ones speaking in front of all of Narnia. Why exactly did they think this was a good idea?

"Besides," Susan continued, "It will make much more sense for you to speak to a small group first. And none of them will judge you. So you can have plenty of time to practice."

"Judge me?" Edmund echoed, thinking vaguely that his voice sounded several octaves higher than it usually was. "But I thought you said they weren't even going to listen to me!"

"They won't," Lucy said firmly.

At the same time, Peter answered, "Of course they will listen to you, Ed. They love you." Then he slanted a hard look at Lucy and said pointedly, "When has anyone ever not listened to _you_, Lu? What makes you think they'll ignore Edmund?"

"Sometimes people don't listen to me," Lucy insisted.

"You're not helping."

"And you are scaring him!"

And the bickering started up again, filled with laughter and a friendly air of relaxation. Whatever Peter might say to the contrary, it was clear that he loved his littlest sister very much, and even Susan managed a few wan smiles for Lucy's antics. Edmund found himself lulled into a feeling of security, listening to the chatter of voices overlapping with the sound of the wind against the windowpane and the trill of a few stray Bats hovering in the air outside.

He did not see the satisfied smile that graced Susan's lips or the way Peter gave her a subtle wink. He did not know that it really was not necessary for him to address his subjects, that Peter could have easily done it for him. He had no way of realizing that this had all been a ploy thought up by his two older siblings to take his mind firmly off the Hag and her words, to keep him from dwelling on those threats, to keep the darkness from his eyes.

* * *

Peter watched as Susan ran a brush through her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was distracted, that much was obvious from her tired expression. And he had a pretty good guess at what might have caused her preoccupation with other thoughts.

She was called Gentle for a reason, after all, and taking a life, even the life of an enemy, was not something she did lightly. Though her temper could be roused to protect those she loved, she had only once before purposefully harmed anyone, during the battle on the plains of Beruna, when her well-timed arrow had prevented Jadis from killing Peter. Killing the Hag would have left her with emotions that she'd had no experience with in the past.

He wanted to say something to her, but every time he opened his mouth, he'd end up shutting it again, unsure what to say.

She turned from the mirror, met his piercing gaze. "I'm fine, Peter."

"Aren't I allowed to worry about you?"

She sighed, rose to her feet, and crossed to his side. "And who is worry about you, Peter, while you are so busy worrying about us?" He didn't answer, and she gave a faintly pointed smile. "I know you are afraid. I am, too. You don't need to pretend to have all the answers around me."

He nodded, a little reluctantly. "They seem to think they have some hold over him." He did not need to elaborate, he knew she would understand exactly what he was referring to.

And sure enough, she answered, "I know, Peter. I don't know why they think that, but they do. And if they think it…"

Peter swallowed anxiously. "If it is true, if the Fell Beasts do have a hold on Edmund…"

"We will not allow them to take him!" Susan said fiercely, something flickering deep within her eyes. "I will not lose him again. Not now, not ever."

Peter turned away from her and began to pace anxiously across the floor. "If Aslan would simply come and crown him, then the prophesy would be complete and the White Witch would no longer be a threat to us or Narnia."

Susan licked her dry lips. She, too, was plagued with doubts about His absence, but what could she say? They did not understand how He worked, only that He did things in His own way and His own time. Surely He had a reason for holding back.

A polite tap at the door caused both to turn, and an old satyr stepped into the room, carrying a heavy book in his arms. He was followed by Oreius, who's towering height dwarfed the timid Creature. They both bowed their head with apology for interrupting a private conversation, but it was clear from the grim look in Oreius' eyes that whatever they had to say was important.

"Your Majesty," the satyr began in a shaking voice as he placed the giant tomb on the side-table next to Susan, "there is a matter that needs your immediate attention."

"What is it, Silrin?" Susan asked, eyeing the book. It was a volume of ancient laws, of the rules and magics set at the beginning of the world, at the very dawn of time. The various Magics of the Deep.

"After King Peter informed me of the Fell Beasts insistence that King Edmund's blood was theirs by right, that all traitors belonged to the Witch," Oreius explained, "I asked Silrin to research anything he could about the magics surrounding punishment of traitors."

Peter turned to Silrin then, fearful. The old satyr was one of the many royal librarians, and a very wise and knowledgeable one at that. Whatever he discovered, Peter knew, could be relied on completely with no doubts as to its accuracy. And the grim look in his eyes indicated that Silrin had found something troubling.

"There are laws," Silrin said gravely. "Laws starting that all traitors must pay their dues. Even those who repent, even those who did not knowingly commit treason, they all still belong to the _her_."

"Edmund is not…" Susan started, but Peter cut her off.

"He is, Susan. He might not have ever wanted any harm to befall us, he might have repented his actions. Even now, he does not _remember_ what it was he did. But he still did it, and if the magics call that treason against Narnia… there is little we can do to argue it."

The High King leaned against the wall, feeling drained. Where was Aslan? Where was His protection and His glory? How could he have allowed this to happen?

"Unfortunately, your Majesty," Oreius murmured in a growl of agreement, "the High King is correct." He looked at Silrin for a moment, then added, "Few Narnians remember what your brother said or did those few years ago. And even fewer would care. But the Witch's supporters, the remnant of her army…"

"She's dead," Peter muttered. "How can she still haunt us?"

"She is not gone," Silrin answered. "The prophesy…"

"But she is gone!" Susan protested. "She is _dead_! Aslan killed her. We all saw it happen. Are you telling me she can come back from the beyond? From wherever it is she went upon leaving this world?"

"She lives on," Silrin said softly, apologetically. "She lives on, because some of her resides in King Edmund. That is how the magics work, my Queen. A traitor gives some of himself to her, and so her hold on him is absolute. Even if her flesh should perish, that hold, which is based in her spirit and her corrupted soul, remains. It lingers, and until it can be destroyed, she too lingers. Such are the laws of the magics."

"And even Aslan cannot undo the Deep Magics," Oreius added.

"So, what now?" Peter asked, trying his best not to lose all control and yell at his two subjects. "How do we fix this?"

"We cannot," Oreius answered, his tone conveying his displeasure at having to be the bearer of such news. "The laws of the Deep Magic cannot be rewritten."

"No! No, I refuse to accept that this is it. I will _not _give them my brother!"

"How can they even claim him?" Susan questioned, grasping at anything that could pull her brother back from this danger. "These Fell Beasts are not the Witch. They might support her, but Edmund's blood does not belong to _them_."

"As long as she still survives, they are her ambassadors, they carry out her will. Truthfully, your Majesty, they are doing what Jadis wants them to do. They are obeying her instructions, even if she is not here to give them. If she wants Edmund's blood spilt..."

"But she is dead, Oreius!" Susan protested yet again. "She is dead and gone and nothing you say makes sense. How can she... how can she still be doing this to us? To Narnia?"

"She is evil, my Queen," Silrin said simply. The satyr shifted his weight slightly, leaning forward and wrapping his fingers on the giant tomb. "The Deep Magics may bind her like they do all else, but she still corrupts them for her own ends. This is a perversion of all that Aslan stands for, of everything that the Emperor-Over-the-Sea has given to us and to this world. But it is her will, and she will see it done. We cannot undo what must be done."

"Not Edmund," Peter whispered, shaking his head. "Not Edmund."

Susan sank onto the small stool before the mirror and rested her chin on one hand. Tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her pale skin, leaving tracks along her cheeks. "Where is Aslan?" she asked, her previous faith ebbing away as she realized the enormity of what stood before them. How could they possibly hope to save Edmund without Him?

"He cannot help," Oreius answered. He shuffled his hooves, the loud taps echoing in the still air. "Do you see, your Majesty? Even he cannot remove this threat. He cannot take back what belongs to Jadis, and he cannot crown King Edmund until Jadis has released her claim to his blood."

"She will never do that." Peter's word, blunt and straight to the point, left a chilling silence in their wake. And everything began to fall into place, creating a horrifying sort of sense, a jarring alignment of events. "She will never..." He stopped, met Susan's tearful gaze. "She will never release him."

And Susan stared back and said just as firmly, just as fiercely, "And neither will we."

* * *

"Just remember to take a deep breath and pretend like you know what you are talking about," Lucy said quietly, giving Edmund a little pat on the back. "No one is going to listen."

"You have us for backup. If you get flustered, all you have to do is look at Peter and he will come to your rescue," Susan suggested. "Not, of course, that we are expecting you to get flustered," she rushed to add.

Edmund thought to himself that they were fools for not expecting that, and he still didn't know who he was speaking to or what he was supposed to say. But even more than that, he could not help but wonder why Susan now seemed perpetually attached to his side and Peter looked as though he were facing his own execution.

But he had little time to think about those thoughts, because soon Peter was at his side, gripping his shoulder and saying, "Speak loudly. Project confidence. That is far more important than anything you actually say."

"See!" Lucy crowed triumphantly. "I told you no one would listen."

"That's not what I meant," Peter countered, frowning. "They are going to listen. Everyone is very eager to…"

"Not helping, Peter," Susan hissed as Edmund's face lost even more color, now turning to a grayish-white that stood out starkly against his dark hair and eyes.

"Right. Sorry." Peter at least looked a little abashed as Edmund started shivering.

"Stop thinking about it so much," Lucy advised. "It will all be better if you just don't think."

"How am I supposed to speak without thinking?" Edmund demanded, his tone too high-pitched for his liking.

Susan caught that as well, and said sharply, "Lower your voice when you speak, Ed. You need to sound authorities and in charge. Not quite so terrified."

"Easy for you to say," Edmund muttered a little sullenly. "You have done this before."

"The more practice you have, the easier it will become. But the only way it will become easier later is if you practice now," Susan said reasonably.

"And you need to have the practice, Ed, because you will be speaking later, you know…"

"Oh, do not listen to him!" Lucy interrupted, shaking her head fervently. "No one will care what you say!"

And then, before the argument could escalate any further, Edmund found himself standing in what he could only assume was the kitchen. It was a large, spacious room, complete with several ovens and stove-tops, three fireplaces, several long tables, ice-boxes lined against the wall, and four or five large pantries that Edmund imagined could store enough food to feed the entire Village for at least a year.

And then there were the cooks. Seven of them, standing before him with smiles on their faces. A Badger, an Elk, two Monkeys, an Opossum, a small Cat, and some kind of tree spirit that kept flitting back and forth, seeming very distressed.

"Don't mind her," Lucy whispered when she saw Edmund's confused expression. "Daphne always says she cannot possibly leave her laurel tree, but when we try to tell her she does not need to cook for us, she becomes very difficult and insists that she will not let any of the _lesser cooks_ ruin our meals. She fancies herself far better a cook than the others."

"She is a very good cook," Susan murmured back, giving the sprite a quick look.

But Edmund had stopped listening. His eyes had moved past the cooks and settled on the eighth Creature in the kitchen. He was sitting behind the others, looking incredibly annoyed and disgruntled, a sour expression gracing his features. As Edmund stared at him, he lifted his snout and said loudly, "You are late, your Majesty. And I have spent thirty minutes surrounded by idiots who seem to think I am a threat to all our safety, and so have been attacking me with carrots!"

Edmund stifled a grin. "I do apologize for any inconvenience, Veltra. Were you hurt terribly by the vegetables?"

Susan said softly, "It was Lucy's idea to have him here as well. She thought you might be reassured by a familiar face."

Edmund saw the way her eyes darkened as she gazed at the Wolf, the way Peter moved just the tiniest bit closer to him, one hand falling to the hilt of the small dagger at his waist. Whatever progress they might have made towards accepting Veltra had been ruined by the Hag and her prophecies of his doom at the hand of the Fell Beasts. But even though their expressions hardened as they looked upon the Wolf, Edmund felt the tiniest bit of warmth knowing that his siblings had still managed to put aside their distrust long enough to ask for Veltra's help. Their love for their sibling trumped their dislike for his friend.

And, of course, they were sure to be there at his side, ready to defend him from the Wolf if need be. The dark-haired boy wondered vaguely if they would ever fully accept Veltra as anything more than an inconvenient part of Edmund's life.

"My good cooks," Peter began formally, turning his attention to the Animals and the spirit gathered, "thank you for gathering this morning."

The spirit, Daphne, flitted forward, long hair blowing about behind her even in the absence of any wind. "It was our pleasure and honor, your Majesty," she said, her voice lilting.

"Edmund, allow me to introduce the seven major cooks of Cair Paravel. Daphne, Strongclaw, Swift, Hopper, Flisk, Neville, and Ochre."

Edmund shot a panicked look at Peter. Was he supposed to _remember_ all those names?

But Peter just smiled at him encouragingly, gesturing for him to proceed.

"What am I supposed to say?" he hissed at Susan. He didn't even know what he should talk about, what they were expecting him to comment upon in his address.

"Food, Edmund," Susan answered pointedly, keeping her voice quiet as well. "Just say how delighted you are to meet them and how you are honored that they will be cooking for your coronation… whenever that is."

He noted the way her words became dark and filled with frustration, the way her eyes began to glimmer with the faintest trace of tears. He would have questioned it, but the cooks were waiting, and Peter was gesturing for him to speak and Lucy was tugging at his arm with an expectant air about her.

He turned away from Susan.

"I…" Already, he had faltered, unable to think of anything past that.

"Look at Veltra. Just look at him until you can start speaking properly," Lucy whispered.

Edmund switched his gaze to the Wolf and tried to pretend that he was the only one there. "I am honored to meet all of you," he began, praying that he would somehow get through this. "I…" Again, a pause. "My brother has lead me to understand that you are the finest cooks in all of Narnia." He blinked, a little surprised at his own words. Where had he thought up _that_ sentence?

But the cooks were beaming and Lucy was smiling happily and Peter was nodding his approval.

So Edmund pushed on. "I am truly looking forward to enjoying examples of your fine talents in the meals to come." At that point, he saw Veltra's expression, the Wolf equivalent of a mocking smirk, and his entire face flushed warm with embarrassment. But though he thought he sounded like a complete idiot, the cooks were all grinning madly.

"It will be a delight," the Badger said, striding forward, "to cook for you."

"Thank you…" Edmund floundered for a moment, not remembering the Badger's name, but then opted to say safely, "Thank you, my Good Badger."

"We will make the grandest feats ever for your coronation! And the completion of the prophesy. It will be a time for celebrating, and we will make it the best!" Daphne trilled enthusiastically.

"It will be a night they will sing about in the legends!" one of the monkey's agreed. "But you must tell us, King Edmund, what is your favorite food?"

Unbidden, the thought of Turkish Delight came to mind, accompanied by a strange sensation of guilt and fear.

And then ice.

He lifted his eyes, looking past the cooks, past Veltra, to the far side of the room. _She_ stood there, long hair flowing over fur-lined robes, gray-blue eyes glittering with cold triumph. Blood-red lips parted into a cruel smirk, thin eyebrows narrowed above a pointed glare.

"Edmund…?" Someone was calling his name, but the voice echoed from far away, and he paid it little attention.

She pointed her hand towards him and said, "I am coming for you."

And then everything went black.

* * *

As the race to save their sibling becomes more frantic for Peter, Susan, and Lucy, a surprise encounter with Mr. Tumnus leaves Edmund facing some unpleasant truths about himself and his past in _Chapter Fourteen: A Long December_


	15. A Long December

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: As the race to save their sibling becomes more frantic for Peter, Susan, and Lucy, a surprise encounter with Mr. Tumnus leaves Edmund facing some unpleasant truths about himself and his past.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: A Long December

_And it's been a long December  
And there's reason to believe  
Maybe this year will be better than the last.  
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself  
To hold on to these moments as they pass…_

_-- Counting Crows, "A Long December"_

Edmund blinked and looked around, trying to clear the fog from his brain. He couldn't quite contemplate where he was or how he had gotten there. The only thought that managed to penetrate the thick mist around his mind was that he was cold.

Very cold.

He latched onto that thought, pulling it close, using it as a means to view the rest of the unfamiliar landscape before him. Slowly, images began to arise out of the brilliant expanse of white, and he finally found himself standing in the deep snow of a barren landscape. The trees were all leafless, icicles hanging from their dark branches. The sun, partially obscured by clouds, did nothing to warm the unnaturally cold place.

He turned around and stared hard at the large building that rose behind him. It was a palace made entirely of ice and white stone, with spiraling towers reaching towards the sky. The entrance to the palace was far above him, long rows of steps leading up to arching double doors. Several Wolves paced back and forth along the steps, their eyes boring into him. Occasionally, they lifted their snouts to the air and issued keening howls. The sound sent shivers down Edmund's spine.

But even the Wolves did not terrify him quite as much as the sight of the woman standing at the top of the steps, framed by the doorway of the icy palace. Her long blonde hair floated about her in the wind, occasionally whipping in front of her cold eyes. Her blood-red lips were quirked upwards into a smirk. She was wearing thick furs that partially obscured her tall and slender frame.

Her right hand was clenched menacingly around a long, deadly-looking wand.

Edmund inhaled sharply. He knew who she was.

"Hello, little prince," Jadis said as she floated down the steps towards him, moving with inhuman speed and grace.

"Where am I?" Edmund asked, praying that his voice would not shake.

"In Narnia," Jadis answered as though it should have been obvious. She spread her arms wide, gesturing to the snow-covered land around her. "This is Narnia, little prince."

Edmund licked his chapped lips and shook his head. "No. No, it is not. Narnia is different."

Jadis laughed, a chilling sound that made Edmund stiffen slightly. "This is _my_ Narnia. The Narnia that once was and will be again. The Narnia of snow and ice. Of winter. Wait and see, and it _will_ come to pass."

Edmund shook his head again. "You are dead. Aslan killed you. You cannot be here. You are not here. This is all a dream. I am at Cair Paravel with my siblings, and you are dead."

She was suddenly standing right before him, so close he had to tilt his head to see her face. She reached out with one hand, gently pressing the tips of her long fingers against his temple. He flinched; her skin was cold to the touch. But she just continued smiling and said, "Does it feel like a dream?"

"You are not real."

"But I am," she countered, still wearing the same pleasantly patient expression, still staring at him with the same coldness in her eyes. "I am Jadis, Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Islands." Her voice rose in volume and Edmund had to resist the temptation to put his hands over his ears and cower at the power resonating in her words. She lifted her wand towards the sky, and a ray of sunshine reflected of the very tip, refracting into several rays of light that fell over the snow. "I am the Queen!"

He took a few steps backwards and looked up at her. "You are _nothing_," he spat back.

She slapped him, hard enough to draw blood. He touched his lip, staring at the small drops of crimson red that appeared at the end of his white fingers. He was cold, so cold…

Some of the Wolves began to descend from the steps, gathering around their Queen. Their yellow eyes flickered like flames, narrowed at him in dislike and anticipation. A few even went so far as to open their jaws, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"_Why isn't he waking up?"_

The voice was so soft that Edmund barely heard it, and after it had faded he was not entirely sure that he hadn't simply imagined the words. But it sounded so much like Susan, and he needed to believe that his siblings were nearby, because right now he had no idea who else could help him.

"Susan?" he called, shouting into the wind.

"She can't hear you," the Witch said viciously. "You're gone, little prince. You're nothing to them anymore, nothing but an unmoving body."

A bitter taste rose in Edmund's throat and he retorted heatedly, "You lie. They are alive. And they _will_ find me."

"And why do you believe that so strongly, Son of Adam? Was it not but a few days ago that you did not even wish to return to them?"

That forced Edmund into silence, because what could he really say in response? That he'd changed his mind? Now that he was in danger he had decided he really did want them after all? Even in his own head that sounded ungrateful and selfish.

"Do you know why you are here?" Jadis asked, tilting her head to the side with a sickening grin, a triumphant cat-who-caught-the-canary gleam in her eyes.

"_Edmund deserved to know the truth, too, Susan. But we didn't… we couldn't… and now…"_

It was Peter's voice this time, and so full of helpless desperation and grief that Edmund wanted to call out to him, to tell him that everything would be alright.

Except… _would_ everything be alright?

"You did something to me. You, acting through that Hag," Edmund answered finally, forcing himself not to think about Peter and instead focus on the woman standing before him. He could not help Peter now, was not sure if he would ever be able to help Peter. He still didn't fully understand what was wrong, but the only way to make things right would necessarily start with getting out of this dream-trap. He had to save himself before he could save anyone else.

"No," Jadis answered. "No, I did nothing to you. You did it all to yourself, little prince."

The Wolves were pushing closer now, and out of the surrounding trees came several other Creatures, Minotaurs and Harpies, dwarves, giant Polar Bears. The wind picked up, roaring around them, snow flying into Edmund's face. The small blizzard grew, but though the wind rattled the braches of the trees and bit through Edmund's thin clothing, it seemed not to disturb the Witch at all. She stood in the center of the storm, watching him through cruel and callous eyes.

"I will get out of this," Edmund promised fiercely.

"_You cannot. You are one of them."_

Peter's voice, loud and sharp, cut through the storm. Edmund twisted in surprise, trying to find the High King through the snow, but saw nothing save the great expanse of white, the ice palace, the Fell Beasts, and Jadis. "Peter?" he whispered, shaking.

"Do you hear that, Son of Adam?" Jadis sneered. "You are one of _us_."

"No! No, you are wrong."

"How can I be wrong? I am the Queen. I am the supreme ruler of Narnia!"

Edmund's temper flared at her words, and his faith in Aslan pushed its way to the front of his mind as he replied, "You are not the supreme ruler. Nothing you do could ever make you more than Aslan. Aslan will save me, save us. You cannot stand against him."

"Aslan?" she chortled, but the laughter did not reach her eyes. "Aslan is your hope? Then you are surely doomed. Where is Aslan now? Why has he not come to save you yet? How can you believe in the Lion's greatness when he has done nothing for you?"

She pointed her wand at him then, and the wind quieted, the snow settled back into drifts along the ground. Something warm flooded through Edmund's veins, warm and soothing and yet so painful at the same time. He felt as though he could not move, as if his muscles would no longer obey any command. The warmth turned into heat, excruciating heat like burning flames, like smoldering embers and red-hot coals…

"You can see this world. You can hear it, smell it, taste it, touch it. Why do you believe in some dream of another place?" Jadis pressed. "Why do you believe in what you cannot see?"

In a fit of desperation, Edmund wrenched himself free of whatever was holding him in place and grabbed the end of the wand. His hands were instantly covered in blisters from the intense heat, but he did not let go. Instead, he tried to yank the wand away from Jadis, struggling with all his might against her.

She prevailed, ripping the wand from his grasp and striking him with it, knocking him backwards. He stumbled and flung out his hands to regain his balance, gasping for breath.

"Fool," she hissed.

"_It's okay, Ed. We're here. We're not going to let Her get you. I promise, we won't… we won't give up on you."_

It was Lucy's voice, gentle and full of blind optimism. Edmund turned towards the sound, not sure exactly where it came from but knowing in that moment that his only hope of escape was to find it, find her…

"Hold on, Lucy," he whispered, "I'm coming back. I promise that, too."

Jadis stepped in front of him. "You cannot pass," she ordered tersely.

But Edmund just stared at her, suddenly no longer afraid. "I don't need to see Narnia or Aslan to know they are real," he said firmly, meeting her gaze with his own defiant stare. "I can _feel_ them, and that is enough."

And then there was a deafening roar, the sound of a lion's call echoing throughout the land, rolling over the hills and spreading on forever into some sort of eternity…

…and Edmund bolted upright in his own bed at Cair Paravel, eyes wide with fear and shock, before he finally became aware of his new surroundings and his expression melted into one of grateful relief.

* * *

Peter carefully arranged the blankets around his still unconscious brother and tried not to spend too much time staring at the sheet-white skin. Edmund was trembling even beneath the heavy down comforter, his body trapped in its own freezing cold. As Peter's hand brushed over Edmund's forehead, he was horrified to feel the chill of ice.

The High King took a deep breath, trying to calm his still frantically beating heart. The sight of his little brother collapsing to the stone floor in the kitchens had been enough to send him into fully-formed panic, and it had only been the vague realization that he needed to stay strong for his sisters that had kept him from completely falling apart.

They'd left the cooks in a flurry of their own distraught emotions and brought Edmund to the privacy and relative safety of his own bedroom. Peter had then given orders to the guards outside the doors that no one save Aslan himself was allowed to enter.

And now he was alone with a terrified Susan, a tearful Lucy, and a nearly lifeless Edmund.

The dark-haired youth was so still, so pale… His own ashen skin was only emphasized by the darkness of his hair as it fell over his closed eyes. He tossed and turned suddenly, his eyes moving frantically beneath the closed lids, and Susan leaned over the bed and caught his hand, holding it tightly in her own.

"He is not waking up! Oh… Oh, _Aslan_… why isn't he waking up?" Susan whispered.

Lucy gave a tiny whimper.

Peter reached out and gripped Susan tightly on the shoulder for a moment. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, his words thick with emotion. It was difficult to speak past the lump forming in his throat.

"Oh… but Peter, what if it is her? What if this is Jadis?"

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked sharply, looking between her two older siblings.

Peter hesitated. They still had not told Lucy about Oreius' and Silrin's discoveries, and right now the last thing Peter wanted to do was give his youngest sibling one more reason to worry.

But Susan said, "She has a right to know, Peter."

Peter sank onto the side of the bed, his eyes travelling back to Edmund's face. "Edmund deserved to know the truth, too, Susan," he said, his words heavy with self-recrimination. "But we didn't… we couldn't…" He gestured with a helpless sigh towards Edmund. "And now…"

"We did not do this, Peter," Susan said, her tone both gentle and fierce. "This is Jadis, not us. You heard what Oreius told us. If Aslan could not have prevented this, how could you? You cannot blame yourself, we both know you would sacrifice anything to stop this. It is _not_ your fault."

Peter shook his head, unsure if he could believe her words. He had only wanted to protect Edmund, to keep him from the truth that would have made him so unhappy. He had seen no reason to dwell on the past, not now that it was over, and had not wanted to burden Edmund with the memories of his actions. But now…

What if not telling him had been the very thing that had brought about his undoing?

Would Edmund have been any better prepared for this if he knew what could happen?

Or was Susan right? Had this all been inevitable anyway, from the very first moment Edmund met the Witch?

"Su? What are you talking about?" Lucy pressed.

It was Peter who answered. "Jadis has laid a claim to Edmund's blood, Lu," he said, trying to break the news as gently as he could, still knowing that there was no way to soften the blow. "He betrayed Narnia, and according the laws of the Deep Magic, a traitor's blood belongs to the Witch. Even if he doesn't remember…"

"But… but… that's not… that can't be… she can't have… she's _dead_," Lucy stammered, eyes still glistening with unshed tears. She bit her lip, shaking her head in denial, looking towards Susan for what she clearly hoped would be some sort of denial of Peter's words.

When Susan just stared back with a blankly affirming look, Lucy broke down into sobs.

Peter rose to his feet and hurried to Lucy, pulling her into a hug. She fought against him at first, but soon gave up and collapsed into his chest. Over her head, Peter and Susan met each other's gaze, and Peter knew that there was nothing he would not do to make this end.

The doors suddenly swung open, a move that surprised Peter to no end as he had given specific orders not to be disturbed. But his expression changed from one of confusion to one of utmost distaste as he stared at the Animal that entered.

"I'm sorry, Sire," one of the guards, a trustworthy and well-meaning Cheetah explained in an apologetic tone, "but he said he had news that would interest you. For the sake of King Edmund… well, I was not sure waiting was prudent."

There was much more to it than that, Peter knew, and he had no doubt that Veltra had been forced to resort to threat to get the door open. But the Cheetah could hold her own against all creatures, and Peter smirked a little at Veltra's annoyed glare. He wondered how long the Wolf had been detained before finally gaining entrance.

"I am only trying to help," Veltra snapped, a hoarse bark.

Peter frowned at the words. Although he had at one point come close to thinking that perhaps he could find some common ground with the Wolf, he now wondered whether or not that would ever be possible. Any thoughts of mutual tolerance had been pushed from his mind at the memories of the Hag outside Cair Paravel, of Oreius' somber expression as he explained Jadis' claim to Edmund's blood. It was these Fell Beasts, Wolves like Veltra, that were bringing about Edmund's demise, and while Edmund might trust Veltra… well, the younger boy had been fooled once, hadn't he?

"You cannot help," Peter answered firmly, angrily. "You are one of _them_."

Veltra flattened his ears against his head, but instead of making the move look like one of submission, it gave him the appearance of a Wolf ready to do battle. His lips curled back into a snarl as he answered, "I am your brother's friend. Do not confuse your dislike of Jadis with a justified dislike of all Creatures who might have once supported her. I was _not_ one of those."

"And now?" Peter asked tightly. "What are you now?"

"Have I not already made my loyalties clear to you, your Majesty?"

Peter clenched his hands into fists, pulling Lucy behind him and unconsciously placing himself between his three younger siblings and the Wolf. "And can you vouch for all your family as well?"

"Why would I need to vouch for anyone other than myself?" Veltra retorted. "It is true that some who were once in my pack might have supported the Witch. But I broke from them a long time ago, and the Villagers became my family. What difference does it make what other Wolves do?"

"What does it matter…?" Susan echoed breathlessly, turning towards Veltra with a look of confusion and outrage. "Look at him," she hissed, pointing at her unconscious brother. "Look what other Wolves did to him! The Fell Beasts magic is killing him, and you want to know why we hesitate to let in someone who might still have familial ties to that army? They are destroying my brother!"

She pushed around the bed, eyes flashing dangerously, and before Peter could stop her she had walked directly up to Veltra. The two glared at each other, and Peter took a few steps towards them, wanting to stop the fight before it started. He knew Veltra would not be stupid enough to attack Susan right there, but would Susan refrain from doing the same?

Her temper broke, flooding over Veltra in waves of fury.

"What kind of siblings would we be if we were not wary of you? You speak of him as though he is solely yours to protect. You accuse of us being unreasonable, but you spend every moment showing your disdain for us. You claim we should trust you unconditionally? Why? Because you found a boy with amnesia in the woods and convinced him that he could be one of you? Without a thought to the fact that he might indeed have a family out there? Why did you not even bother looking for us?"

"We were isolated from the world for so long that…"

"Peter found you! If he could find you, that why was it so difficult for you to find us? Why did you not even bother to try? What justifications did you have to tell yourself to make you think that it was okay not to look for his family? Do you know what it is like to lose family? Do you?"

"Your Majesty, I have lost plenty! Do you think life in the Village was easy, that no one ever died, that we never lost…"

"Then how could you sit back and do nothing when there was a chance that there were people out there looking for Edmund? If you know what loss feels like, how could you do this to us?"

Veltra was momentarily speechless.

Susan's rant was abruptly cut off by Edmund, who twisted and moaned on the bed, and all three siblings turned towards him. Lucy was at his side first, clutching his hand and whispering, "It's okay, Ed. We're here. We're not going to let Her get you. I promise we won't… we won't give up on you."

And then the door was flung open once more and Oreius appeared, looking wild and ready for battle, his body shaking with fury. "The Fell Beast army has attacked! They've breached the first gate of the city."

"That was what I wished to tell you," Veltra barked angrily. "And there are some in the woods beyond the gates doing magic. Dark magics."

"Stay with him," Peter ordered tersely to his sisters as he followed Oreius from the room. He did not notice how Veltra and the Cheetah followed him, did not see the way Susan nearly crumpled to the ground, sobs shaking through her body as the last of her anger drained away, replaced by pure terror, did not hear Lucy's whimpering gasp at the news. He saw and heard nothing except the fact that this army was gathering to attack his subjects, his _family_. And he would not let them.

And after he had gone, with Oreius at his side and Veltra on his heels, after the room had become empty once more, Edmund jerked upright in bed, his eyes flying open with fear, his breath coming in short gasps, his body lurching back into the realm of reality.

And Susan and Lucy stared in horror at the blood that suddenly appeared on his lips and the blisters that burst out across the smooth skin of his palms.

* * *

They wouldn't let go of him.

It was heartwarming, in a way. And rather annoying.

Carefully extracting himself from his sisters' tight embraces, Edmund leaned back against the pillows and ran a hand over his damp face. Susan and Lucy were hovering above him, staring at him with so much intent that he wondered if perhaps they were afraid they would forget what he looked like if they did not memorize every aspect of his face.

He let out a low sigh.

His lip was no longer bleeding from where the Witch had hit him, and the blisters had faded, leaving no marks behind. But Susan and Lucy had seen them, had confirmed that they were real, and he could not help but wonder how such magic could have brought part of his dream into reality.

Unless it was not entirely a dream?

"Where is Peter?" Edmund asked finally, a little wearily. He had half-expected his brother to be hovering over the edge of the bed next to the two girls, refusing to leave, peppering him with questions.

"Fighting an army of Fell Beasts," Susan murmured softly. "I… I will send him a message that you are alright." She peered at him, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Are you alright? Your hands, your lip…"

"I am fine, Susan."

"You weren't," Lucy countered, pulling her entire body onto the bed, her arms curled around her knees. "You were so sick, Ed. We thought…" She stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

"I am fine now, Lucy," Edmund answered calmly.

"Oh, but… what was it? What happened to you?"

Edmund licked his dry lips. "I do not know. I saw… her. Jadis." Susan stiffened and Lucy inhaled sharply. Edmund frowned at them, but continued, "She said… awful, beastly things. I… she tried to hurt me. She _did_ hurt me."

"Oh, _Edmund_!" Lucy whispered and leaned forward, burying her head in his shoulder.

Edmund hugged her back with one arm, feeling a little awkward. He looked to Susan, and she stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

"Su?"

The older sibling gave a heavy sigh. "I… there is much we need to discuss, Ed. When Peter returns…"

"About the Witch? She seemed so… determined… to have me join her." Edmund licked his dry lips as he remembered her pale face, her flashing eyes, the gleaming sunlight streaming down behind her.

"She is after you," Susan confirmed, a little reluctantly.

"But… _why_?"

"When Peter returns," Susan promised, "we will tell you everything we know. But just try to rest now and conserve your energy. You… you had us all very… scared."

He gave a faint smile. "I scared myself as well. But I am sure we will find a way to stop Jadis."

Again, that unreadable expression flickered through Susan's eyes before she forcefully shoved it aside and answered him, "I am sure we will." She brushed away his hair, flipping a few stray pieces off his forehead and murmured, "Do you need anything?"

"Water?" Edmund requested.

Lucy bounded to her feet, a bundle of nervous energy. "I will get water from the kitchens. And something to eat. You look famished, Edmund, and you are far too skinny."

She seemed so happy at the prospect of being able to do something useful, something that could actually help her brother, that Edmund did not have the heart to point out that she could just as easily request someone to bring the water to them. She did not need to make the trip herself. But she swept from the room eagerly, and he watched her go in fond amusement.

He turned back to Susan. "Please, Susan, I must know why the Witch is after me."

"When Peter comes…"

"But that could take forever. He is fighting now, and he must…"

"Not until he comes, Ed. I can't… I will not start this conversation without him. You do not understand, I… I simply cannot."

"I cannot wait," Edmund retorted.

She nodded reluctantly. "I will send word to him that you have awoken and we wish to speak. I… it will bring him back sooner… Please, Edmund, can you wait for only a few more minutes?"

He gave his own reluctant nod.

She rose to her feet and walked from the room, pausing at the door to give him one last, unreadable look. And then she was gone.

Left alone, Edmund stared at the ceiling for a moment, watching the way the shadows danced across the stone. Then he shoved the blankets away from his aching limbs and pushed himself shakily to his feet. He had no doubt his movements would only cause Susan and Lucy to fuss even more when they returned, but he had no desire to stay in bed any longer than necessary.

He glanced at the door. Perhaps he would just take a short stroll through the hallway. Just to get his body moving once more.

He moved slowly towards the door, his body only just obeying his command to walk upright. Standing on wobbling legs, one hand resting against the doorknob, he pulled together just enough strength to push against the wood. The door swung open and he found himself standing in the hallway, staring at a very confused and surprised Mr. Tumnus.

The faun took a moment to recover himself, then bowed his head and said, "Your Majesty. Are you well?" He frowned at Edmund, scrutinizing the boy, and Edmund nodded with a little shiver.

"Fine, Mr. Tumnus," he answered although his teeth had started chattering and he was feeling decidedly dizzy.

Perhaps this had not been the best idea after all.

Mr. Tumnus took a step closer, reaching out tentatively to offer support. Although the last thing Edmund wanted was to show weakness now when he was trying to prove that he could take care of himself perfectly well and that his siblings did not need to worry so much over him, he also knew that he would soon collapsed onto the floor if he did not accept the help now.

He leaned heavily against the faun and took a shaky breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Tumnus."

"Your Majesty, should I fetch your brother or sisters? You… you do not look well."

Edmund gave a bitter laugh. "They have not told you? I thought for sure that Lucy would have informed you of all that had happened." He had no way of knowing that his siblings had decided to keep what happened in the kitchens a contained secret for the moment and was bewildered by Mr. Tumnus' blank look.

"Sire?"

"I am fine, thank you," Edmund said, now leaning some of his weight against the wall as well. "The Witch wants me to join her and return Narnia to all those years of winter. Either that, or she wants to kill me. I am not sure which one it is yet."

Mr. Tumnus stiffened. He eased Edmund back into the bedroom and led him to a chair. "Sit down, your Majesty, and rest," he said, but his tone was suddenly distant and his gaze had grown dark.

Edmund blinked. "Have I offended you? I did not mean to, if I did."

Mr. Tumnus did not answer the question. Instead, he said softly, "And where are your royal siblings, your Majesty? I came to find Queen Lucy. She did not meet me as she said she would."

"Oh. That is my fault," Edmund answered wearily, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I distracted her by fainting in the kitchens and becoming trapped in a dream-land with Jadis." He opened his eyes quickly and squinted at the faun. "You are spending an awful lot of time with my sister. Do you always?"

"I do when I am here," Mr. Tumnus answered, "and not at my home beyond the Western Woods. But I come only rarely, and so do not see Queen Lucy as much as I would like."

"Oh. Are you originally from near my mountains?" Edmund questioned, surprised. He had not realized that Narnians might live so close to the Village, although he supposed he should have known that. "I am from those mountains, you know."

Mr. Tumnus gave him a piercing look and answered, "No, my King. You are from Spare Oom."

Edmund stared at him blankly. "What?" Then he vaguely remembered Peter explaining that they had all entered Narnia by toppling through some form of wardrobe, and he nodded. "You are right. I am from this… Spare Oom. I only meant that I know the mountains well."

He was still a little unsettled by the faun's cold and abrupt manner. He seemed upset about something, or perhaps worried, and his eyes had not once left Edmund's face, but were instead staring at him with such intensity that Edmund could not help but wonder if the faun was looking directly through him.

Mr. Tumnus' expression had melted into something softer, kinder, and gentler, however, every time he mentioned Lucy. And Edmund could not help but be intrigued by that relationship. He supposed it would be easy for anyone to become enamored with the youngest monarch, but Lucy seemed to return the affection. They were clearly very close friends.

"Peter," Edmund said finally, "has gone to deal with a gathering of Fell Beasts outside the Cair. Or so Susan told me, he was not here when I awoke. Susan has gone to send a message to him. Lucy was here a moment ago, but she is fetching some water and food. She is determined to feed me until I burst, it seems. She will be back soon, I believe."

"Ah… perhaps, then, you will give her my regards, your Majesty? I would not wish to intrude upon your time with her." There was something in his tone of voice that cause Edmund to give the faun a sharp look, but he was met with nothing more than a politely enquiring expression.

"You need not rush out on my behalf," Edmund said finally, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. "I doubt I will be awake much longer, though I certainly have no desire to sleep."

"Sleep might help. You are tired."

"True," Edmund admitted reluctantly, "but I have no desire to see her again. She almost had me last time, and… well, Susan said she was after me…" He gave an exhausted sigh and repeated, "She nearly had me."

At this point, Mr. Tumnus seemed very uncomfortable with the situation, and as Edmund tucked his legs in underneath him and curled up in the armchair, the faun began to pace. "Are you sure it was more than just a dream?" he asked.

Edmund nodded, remembering the taste of blood on his lips, feeling the tender skin on the palms of his hands. The burns were gone, yet he could still feel the heat, the pain… The dull ache that remained behind served as a reminder to just how difficult it had been for him to escape.

"It makes no sense. I… I do not know what I have done. Susan says she is after me, but I do not understand… why? How? What have I done to deserve her attention?" Edmund murmured, more to himself than to Mr. Tumnus. He had almost forgotten that the faun was in the room, he was far too tired to pay much attention to his surroundings. The chair was so comfortable, and he was finally starting to grow warm, the chill leaving his bones. All he wanted was to sleep.

But he was so very terrified of _Her_.

"She has told me I will return to her… She has said she will bring back the winter… But I…" He trailed off with a yawn.

"And will you?" Mr. Tumnus asked harshly, his voice pulling Edmund fully back to attention.

"Of course not," Edmund hissed, annoyed. "How could you ask such a thing? Do you truly think me a traitor to Narnia?"

Mr. Tumnus pursed his lips. "Do you think yourself a threat to this land?"

"How could I be? I love Narnia. It is for the good of Narnia that I left my home and my family and the only life I remembered to come here!"

"It was your loyalty to the Witch that caused you to lose Narnia in the first place," Mr. Tumnus countered.

Time stood still.

And suddenly everything was falling into place, creating a picture of jarring alignment that Edmund realized he truly did not want to see. But it made sense… so much sense… Peter's evasions when speaking about the past, Lucy's hurt expression when Edmund said she was little more than a baby, Susan's silence when questioned about the Witch, the tension that hovered around them even when no one mentioned it…

"I was horrible, wasn't I?" Edmund breathed. "I… I was beastly to all of them. I… I joined the Witch." Snippets of his conversation with Mr. Tumnus from the night of the celebration returned, and he tried to sort through, make sense of what he had been told. "You told me I was in the Witch's dungeon because she had captured me while I fought against her. But that… that's not true, is it?"

Mr. Tumnus did not have to answer, because in that moment Edmund saw a sudden glimpse of something, heard icy words echoing in his head.

"_Do you know why you are here, faun? You are here because he sold you out… for sweets."_

Edmund shook his head, wishing he could somehow refuse to believe what he knew was true. "Oh Aslan … what have I done?"

* * *

Edmund's reaction to the truth puts his life in danger, and Mr. Tumnus must face the consequences of his actions when Lucy learns of the faun's conversation with her brother in _Chapter Fifteen: Wonderwall_.


	16. Wonderwall

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Edmund's reaction to the truth puts his life in danger, and Mr. Tumnus must face the consequences of his actions when Lucy learns of the faun's conversation with her brother.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Wonderwall

_Today is gonna be the day  
That they're going throw it back to you.  
By now you should have somehow  
Realized what you've gotta do._

_-Oasis, "Wonderwall"_

Mr. Tumnus watched as Edmund practically threw himself from the room, his entire body shaking. He had not expected for this to happen, and felt the tiniest bit of unease at the young monarch's reaction. But the unease was easily pushed aside as he thought of what he had learned, of the danger that the boy presented. With Jadis after him…

He understood that the High King and the two Queens wished to protect their brother from the truth. But that protection might simply put them all at great risk, and he could not take the chance… no, he could not let Edmund's lack of knowledge be their undoing.

All thoughts of justification, however, were pushed from his mind when Lucy suddenly appeared in the doorway to the room. Her eyes went past him to the bed, and then to the arm chair, and then she spun and looked down the hallway, filled with alarm.

"He just left, Queen Lucy," Mr. Tumnus volunteered. "King Edmund. He just left moments ago. I believe he… ah… needed some fresh air."

"Why? What happened?" Lucy cried frantically. But she did not wait for a response. Instead, she turned and her heel and ran through the hallway, with Mr. Tumnus giving chase close behind.

When they came upon Edmund, he had sagged against the wall as though unable to keep himself upright. His body was wracked with tremors and his wide eyes constantly moved about, taking in every bit of the scene.

"Ed?" Lucy whispered, one hand floating in front of her open mouth. "Are you alright?"

Edmund laughed. It came out as more of a strangles choke than anything else, and he ended up gasping for breath. "Am I alright?" he echoed. "I am destroying Narnia!"

"Wh-what? What do you mean?" Lucy asked tentatively, glancing over at Mr. Tummus.

The faun could not meet her gaze. He doubted he would see accusation in her eyes, knowing that she was never one to leap to conclusions. But soon enough she would discover that he had told her brother the truth… and then what would happen?

Edmund was a threat. Revealing that was the right course of action. He had only done what was necessary to ensure that Narnia did not come to harm.

But he would have rather sacrificed himself and all that he held dear than to harm Lucy.

"He told me," Edmund stuttered, and the faun's eyes snapped to his face. Edmund was staring at him, but there was no blame or dislike in those eyes. They were filled with pain, with horror, and with the strangest look of longing.

Lucy grabbed his arm, her fingers tightening around his wrist. "What did you do?" she asked, her words tinted with betrayal. "What did you tell my brother?"

"Everything you would not tell me," Edmund answered before the faun could reply. "He told me the truth, Lucy, which you could not bring yourself to do."

"No! No… Ed, no. We were going to tell you. Susan went to get Peter, remember? And the cooks are bringing up food… it will be here any moment now, Ed. Come back to your bedroom. When Susan and Peter come we can talk."

"Talk?" Edmund echoed. "What is there to say? I betrayed you all. And Narnia. I know the truth now, I know what you would not tell me. There is nothing else to say."

"No. It's not… it is not like that. Please, Edmund," Lucy begged, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, "come back to the bedroom and let Susan and Peter and I explain."

Edmund shook his head, words catching in his throat. "There is no need to explain, Lucy," he answered. "I understand. I would not have trusted me either, had I known the truth."

"It was not about trust."

Edmund pushed away from her and Mr. Tumnus, stumbling into the center of the hallway. "Of course it was, Lu," he said softly, his voice filled with resignation. "It is always about trust." And he turned to walk away.

Lucy hurried forward, grabbing his arm. Edmund spun, most likely faster than he meant to, and the sudden sharpness of his movement caught Lucy by surprise. She lost her balance, falling backwards onto the floor with a resounding thud. For a moment, Edmund just stared at her, surprise written all over his face.

Then he turned and ran down the hallway, disappearing around a corner.

Lucy struggled to get back to her feet, the lavish amount of material in her skirt slowing her process. Edmund was long gone by the time she was ready to give pursuit, and her fear for her brother seemed to rapidly become anger.

She spun to face Mr. Tumnus, blotches of red appearing on her cheeks. "How could you?"

"I…" the faun faltered, worried. "I was only trying to… I thought he… he said _she_ was after him. _She_ wanted him back."

"We were going to tell him," Lucy hissed, swatting at her tearful eyes with one hand. "You didn't need to smother him with all that information. We _were_ going to tell him."

"I… I did not know…" Mr. Tumnus stammered. "I… Queen Lucy, I was only trying to protect you."

Lucy sniffed and turned away. "I have to find Susan and Peter."

"Queen Lucy, wait…"

She ignored him and he was left standing alone in the hallway.

He turned away from the departing Queen and walked slowly through the corridor. How could he have explained to her what he felt? How could he have made her understand that he couldn't just sit idly by while Edmund believed himself to have a perfect past? Not while the boy was still a threat to Lucy…

He did not feel guilty that he had revealed the truth to Edmund. The boy was a danger, particularly if he was being lured back to the side of the Fell Beasts. He had been locked in a prison because of the soon-to-be king, had been turned to stone for it as well.

But it was not entirely resentment that had made him reveal the truth. He might not like Edmund, but he had been lured in by the Witch as well, and he knew how easy it was to fall into her traps. But he had fought his way out of her snare, turning his back on her and risking everything to keep Lucy from falling into her hands. Not because he had had a great change of heart, but because he could not bear the thought of harming the young Queen.

How could anyone who was lucky enough to know Lucy turn on her so easily? He knew, from vague whispers and hushed conversations between the two elder monarchs, that the two younger had not had the best of relationships prior to their miraculous entry into Narnia. In fact, once, when Queen Susan had thought he was not listening, she had said something to King Peter about Edmund being an absolute beast to Queen Lucy.

Lucy was so unlike anyone else he had ever met, so full of optimism and faith and the honest belief that good could always prevail. He loved her. It was not a romantic love, but an infatuation nonetheless, and the thought that Edmund could have been so horrible to her and not even cared…

If Jadis truly thought she could extend her influence to Edmund even from beyond the grave, if she believed she could lure him back to her side… how could Mr. Tumnus just stand by and let more harm come to Lucy?

He did not regret that his words – harsh that they may be, they were still the truth – had hurt Edmund. But one glance at the look of betrayal on Lucy's face…

And now he was filled with remorse.

* * *

Susan hurried through the labyrinth of hallways, her only thought the need to return to her two younger siblings. She had sent word to Peter that Edmund was awake, and she knew the High King would be returning any moment. In the meantime, she did not like the idea of leaving them alone for long.

But when she reached the bedroom, she came to a horrified halt.

The door was open, wide open, displaying an empty room. The covers on the bed had been shoved unceremoniously to the ground, and one of the pillows lay discarded on an arm chair. Everything was silent.

"Edmund?" Susan called out in a panic, rushing into the room in a rustle of silk and lace. She spun about, gripped with an unyielding terror. What could have happened to him in the time that she had left? Surely Lucy would not have let him leave the room, not given how pale and unhealthy he had looked.

Oh, Aslan, had something happened to Lucy as well?

"Lucy? Edmund!" she cried again.

She turned back towards the door.

And froze.

She could do nothing but stare at the woman who had materialized out of thin air. She knew she should run, knew that she should get as far as possible away from this epitome of evil that stood before her, but her body was no longer connected to her brain, and she could do nothing more than gaze at the White Witch in helpless horror.

"You can't save him, you know," Jadis commented, dark lips quirking upwards into a wry smirk. Pale, icy eyes narrowed. "He is mine. The Deep Magic wills it."

"No…"

"Oh, yes," Jadis countered Susan's weak plea. "Why do you think Aslan hasn't bothered to show his face? He won't waste time or breath on a lost cause. He knows that even He cannot stop the inevitable."

"You're wrong," Susan hissed, tears pooling in her eyes. "You are wrong!"

"No," Jadis retorted, "I'm not. So why don't you use your time wisely, Daughter of Eve, and say goodbye." Then she was gone, fading away even as the last of her words reverberated in the still room, leaving the grief and pain of their words behind.

And Susan screamed.

* * *

Edmund pushed blindly past the sentries who guarded the last of the walls surrounding the Cair and stumbled to his knees on the hard cobblestones. He barely registered the coolness of the wind against his skin or the sudden silence that had fallen over those around him. In fact, he was not entirely sure how he had ended up here, only that he had rushed away from Mr. Tumnus with the uncontrollable desire to be very, very far away.

He licked his lips, suddenly terrified. Susan had mentioned that Peter was fighting the Fell Beasts outside the city walls… were they close by? Would he stumble across them unawares?

He had betrayed his siblings.

He could not remember the details of it, could not remember anything except the Witch's icy voice uttering over and over in his mind… he had sold out his siblings, and the faun, for _sweets_. How could he have done that? How could he have ever considered his own family to be worth less than candy?

It was the not knowing that was tearing his apart. He could only envision all the different ways he might have turned on them, all the different horrible crimes he could have committed. Did he lure them into Narnia? Did he take them straight to the Witch? Did she hurt them, did she throw them in prison? Did it make him _happy_?

And now she was back. Back because she thought she still had some hold over him. She thought she cure lure him back to her side, use him to bring about her last victory. His siblings had not confided in him, had not told him the truth about this. They must have been afraid that the knowledge would lead him to _her_, that he would revert to his old ways if he remembered.

He had put them all in danger by coming here. He had put all of _Narnia_ in danger.

How would he ever live with him now? How could he face each day knowing what he had done?

There was only one solution, only one way to make this right. It was his fault that the Witch had nearly won before, and it was his fault that she was back now. The only solution was to kill her… even if it meant losing his own life in the process.

"Your Majesty?"

Edmund turned, blinking gray eyes at the small Kitten that scurried forward. The Animal was tiny, just a mass of bright orange fur and two large, green, almond-shaped eyes. He was skittish as well, shyly bobbing his head up and down.

Edmund rose to his feet. "I'm not a king," he said numbly. "Aslan hasn't crowned me." And Aslan never would crown him. Who could possibly wish to bestow such great responsibility, privilege, and blessing on him? He had already proven once that he could not be trusted.

The Kitten seemed taken aback by the answer, and then quite puzzled. "My father says you're a king," the Kitten argued finally. Looking about, he added, "Are you going out to play? My mother says I shouldn't go beyond the gates alone because it isn't safe." He paused and cast a sheepish glance backwards at the still partially-open gates. "But I'm not alone now. You are here, too. Can I play with you?"

"I'm not playing," Edmund answered simply, shaking his head. "I have something I need to do."

"Is it some kind of adventure?" the Kitten demanded excitedly. "My father is a soldier for High King Peter and one day I'm going to be a soldier, too! Can I come with you? I'm _very_ brave."

Edmund stifled a chuckle but answered regretfully, "No, little one. I have to do this on my own. You should go back inside the gates." As he spoke, he turned and look towards the soldiers who had materialized around them. It was clear that he would not be able to go anywhere by himself, that these Animals and Creatures were far too determined to protect him.

But he had to face the Fell Beasts. He was the only one who could do this. He was the only one who could stop them.

"Your Majesty?"

It a water nymph of some sort who had spoken. She floated towards him, ephemeral and nearly translucent. "Your brother is fighting on the other side of the Cair." She turned pale gray eyes towards the castle that now separated them from the High King. "You should come back inside the gates," she continued in her lilting voice. "The battle may come this way."

A large Golden Eagle wheeled about in the air above him, screeching a piercing warning to the sky.

Edmund glanced at the Kitten. "Do you have a name, little one?"

"Sunspot," the Kitten answered happily, giving a soft purr. "And my brothers are Coal, Ash, and Flame. Flame looks like me, but Ash and Coal are darker. Coal is really, really dark. Like all black. My mother says if you let him go out at night you will lose him. I don't have that problem, though, everyone can always see me. And I have one sister. Her name is Ember and she's also like me and Flame. Only she has yellow eyes like my Mother and the rest of us have green eyes. Like me."

"Sunspot," Edmund repeated, smiling a little at the Kitten's obvious enthusiasm. But he could barely manage the energy to keep up the conversation, however, as the weight of his own exhaustion and the consequences of his actions came pressing down on his shoulders.

_The sound of something roaring overhead, the sudden rush of fear and panic that gripped everyone left behind… Footsteps on the floor, someone calling his name… Turning back, needing to save the picture even with risk to his own life… Fragments of glass fell from between his fingers and he gripped the photograph, and…_

"_Can't you ever do as you're told?"_

Edmund jolted as the memories smashed into him and then faded just as quickly as it had come, Peter's final shout echoing in his mind. He could feel the smooth glass beneath his fingers, smell the scent of damp morning air, hear the crescendo of planes passing overhead…

But he was in Narnia. This did not happen in Narnia. This all happened in another life he could not remember.

"Come back inside, your Majesty," a sleek Snow Leopard growled, moving towards him with feline grace and stealth.

Edmund scanned the group, wondering how many soldiers Peter had recruited to watch over him and just what orders were given. Would they stop him if he simply turned and walked away? Would they run to Peter for help? Would they accompany him, stand by his side and fight his battles with him?

It was a challenge to navigate the rights and responsibilities of being a king. How could he possibly hope to wear a crown when he could barely even face his own subjects? He would never make a decent monarch, but if only he could stop the Witch… then at least he would have done his part to protect Narnia.

He had no weapons with him. No sword, no shield, no bow and quiver of arrows. Not even a simple knife. But would it have made a difference even if he did? He did not know how to fight, had no idea how to use those weapons to keep himself safe.

He knew it was foolish to want to face the Fell Beasts alone. But he could not risk any other lives, not after already causing so much pain to those he was supposed to protect. This was his fight, and he would fight it. Alone.

"Your Majesty, come… please."

He looked at the Snow Leopard.

_Can you ever do as you're told?_

_No, Peter_, he thought grimly. _No, I guess I can't do as I am told_.

"I'm sorry," Edmund murmured in an apologetic tone. "But there is something I must do."

The Snow Leopard pounced forward, sliding past him and blocking him from the woods beyond. "And you must understand, your Majesty, that with all due respect and no insult intended, we cannot allow you to leave."

Edmund licked his dry lips, knowing he was outnumbered. And judging from the hard looks on the faces of all the Animals around him, he could not change their mind. Still, he could not simply give up, not without at least once trying to persuade them to see it from his point of view.

"The Fell Beasts want me to fight them," Edmund said, "and I must. It is my duty as a King."

A fierce Centaur strode forward, hooves echoing against the stone path. "And it is our duty to keep you safe," he countered, hefting his spear to arm's length before him. "This we will gladly do, and suffer your wrath if need be. But we cannot allow you to fight a band of Beasts that will surely kill you."

"You owe me no allegiance," Edmund countered.

"You just said you were our King," the Centaur countered.

Edmund faltered, his own words trapping him. "I… I am not… I have not yet earned the privileges that come with being king. I must first complete the responsibilities…"

"That's silly!" Sunspot piped up. For all his shyness earlier, he seemed to have decided that he was no longer overwhelmed by the presence of royalty. Or perhaps it was just that his natural desire to chatter had won over his reticence. Either way, he continued, "You can't only be half-King. You're either all king or none. Being half-king would be like saying I am half-Cat. It's just silly!"

"Hush, Kitten," an elderly satyr whispered.

"But it is silly!" Sunspot squeaked in defense of his words. "My father says that being a king is just part of who someone is. And he has to be right, because he's my father!"

Edmund laughed outright. "I suppose that is true," he conceded slowly, nodding to the tiny Kitten. "Your father is a very wise Cat." He turned to the Snow Leopard. "I will come back with you."

But even as he passed through the gate once more, he could not help but chance a glance behind him, his mind already filling with ideas. It would be a challenge to slip out unnoticed, particularly given that Peter would surely refuse to leave him alone. But while it would be a challenge, it would not be impossible. And he would accomplish it.

He had brought this terror upon Narnia. It was all his fault. And now he'd finally figured out what to do to stop it.

* * *

Edmund has no desire to hear Peter's explanations, and when he sets off by himself to stop Jadis, the remaining three Pevensie siblings must join forces with an unwelcome ally to save their brother in _Chapter Sixteen: Everybody's Fool_.


	17. Everybody's Fool

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Edmund has no desire to hear Peter's explanations, and when he sets off by himself to stop Jadis, the remaining three Pevensie siblings must join forces with an unwelcome ally to save their brother.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Everybody's Fool

_Without the mask, where will you hide?  
Can't find yourself, caught in your lie._

_-Evanesence, "Everybody's Fool"_

"Edmund, we never wanted to hurt you," Peter began, settling himself into the seat across from his brother. His return from the battle with the Fell Beast army had offered him no comfort at all as he arrived to discover Edmund filled with anger and self-disgust, Susan trying to hold herself together despite the fact that she looked absolutely terrified of something, and Lucy hovering anxiously between the two.

Susan had refused to explain what had scared her so much, but she and Lucy reluctantly revealed the story of what Mr. Tumnus had done.

Edmund shook his head at Peter's words and slid further back into his chair. "Then why didn't you tell me?" he asked, her words laced with bitterness.

Susan, who was standing behind him, rested one hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, but she did not let go of him. He turned his neck and looked at her.

"Why?" he repeated.

"It's over and done," Susan answered. "We cannot changed what happened. But you… you are not that boy anymore. Why force you to deal with the past when we had long since forgotten it?"

Gray eyes spun back to find Peter, and the elder boy licked his dry lips at the penetrating stare that met his gaze. But he could look away from Edmund, could not give him any indication that he was ashamed or distrustful of his brother. He had to make sure Edmund understood that they all loved him, and that all they had wanted was to keep him safe.

"Edmund, you have to believe us. This was never about not trusting you," Peter started.

"How can I believe you," Edmund countered, "when all you've done is lie?"

"We love you," Lucy cried, dropping to her knees before Edmund's chair and resting her hands on his knees. "We never lied to you about that." She paused, her lower lip quivering with barely contained tears. "Please, Ed…"

Edmund pushed her hands away. "Don't call me that," he ordered harshly.

Lucy bit back a sob.

Peter ran a hand through his hair as he took in the sight of his younger brother's angry and mutinous expression. He could not blame Edmund for the way he felt, but Lucy looked on the verge of tears, and Susan was wavering close to the edge of an emotional breakdown. The entire family could soon fall apart unless he somehow found a way to hold them all together.

Echoes of the battle with the Fell Beasts ran through his mind. He rarely fought so close to the Cair, and it was nerve-wracking to know that if somehow he did not push them back, they might be able to breach the walls and enter the city, and the palace. He had fought blindly, nearly consumed by the incredible desire to keep his country and his siblings safe, and fortunately, that had been enough to push them back, to force the enemy to retreat into the surrounding woods.

At least for now.

These Creatures were becoming daring and impudent, choosing to attack so close to his stronghold. They must desperately want Edmund, he mused, for them to try something like that.

"Edmund…" He paused, waiting until he was sure Edmund was listening, and then he said, "I am not going to pretend to understand what you are feeling right now. And… I will admit that perhaps we should not have lied to you about the past. But…" He tilted his head to the side and asked, "What would you have done if the positions were reversed?"

"I would have told you the truth! I would not have pretended that everything was alright when it so clearly wasn't!" Edmund hissed, feeling rather put out by Peter's conciliatory tone. "Peter, Narnia is in grave danger because of me. As a king, you have a responsibility to protect this land…"

"You are not a threat!" Susan whispered urgently. "How can you even think that?"

"Aren't I?" Edmund countered. "I have betrayed you once, and now Jadis believes I will do it again."

"She is wrong!"

"You do _not_ know that." His words were soft, so soft that his siblings almost missed them. Lucy looked horrified at what he had said, and she buried her head in her hands and continued to sob silently. Susan looked away, turning her eyes towards the wall, unable to accept what Edmund was saying.

Peter said firmly, "We do know that, Edmund."

"How can you? I barely know it myself."

It was Lucy who answered, her voice shaking as she spoke. "Jadis doesn't think she can convince you to join her. She just wants your blood. She wants to kill you. Because that will destroy the prophesy…"

"So?" Edmund countered. "How is that any better, Lucy? In the end, I still destroy Narnia."

"No," Lucy pressed on, her lower lip trembling, her eyes still filled with tears. "It is entirely different, Ed." He gave her a hard stare, but she refused to back down on using his nickname. Valiantly, she struggled on, "If Jadis thought she could draw you back to her side, she would not want you dead. You are a king of Narnia and one of the children of the prophesy. If you betrayed Narnia, it would cause so much more pain and anguish to us… to our citizens… to Aslan. You could cause so much more damage if you were evil than you could if you were dead. But she knows you won't turn, so she's settling on just killing you. Don't you see that it is different?"

"How do you know that Jadis only wants to kill me?" Edmund countered. "She has told me she wants me back on her side. She has said I will join her."

"She is trying to torment you," Peter protested. And, silently, he added to himself that she was obviously succeeding.

"Ed, the only claim she has is to your blood. Not to your soul," Susan argued, "or to your mind. Your actions are your own, and she cannot control that."

Edmund faltered, almost swayed by her logic. But no… "Either way, it is still my past actions that have brought this fate upon us. I have already betrayed. Narnia may fall to her once more, and it is all my fault."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Susan demanded suddenly, her tone harsh. "Getting yourself killed certainly won't solve the problem."

Edmund flinched at her words, but muttered defiantly, "And what would you have me do, Susan? Ignore the past?"

"No," Peter cut in. "But you can learn from it. You were different then, you were just a boy. Now you are a king. And our best chance of fixing this is if we do it together. The four of us, side-by-side."

But that argument only served to bring the entire debate back to its beginning as Edmund murmured, "How can we do anything together when you are too afraid to tell me the truth?"

"We were not afraid," Susan replied, "of you. We were just trying to keep you safe. We didn't want to hurt you. Surely you can understand that?"

"I would have told you the truth."

"Would you?" Peter interjected. "What if it was someone else? What if it was… say, Nasada? Would you have told her the truth if the situation had been reversed, if she had been in your position?"

Edmund hesitated, lost in thought.

"_Are you alright?" Edmund exclaimed, rushing to Veltra's side. The Wolf was limping, and his right flank was covered in small, thin cuts that mattered his fur down with blood._

"_Fine," Veltra retorted in a tone of forced light-heartedness. "Just a few scratches."_

"_Come, let's have Artemis take a look at you."_

"_I don't need a healer," came the answering growl._

_Edmund rolled his eyes, but instead of pressing the issue, asked, "What happened?"_

_Veltra sighed. "I accompanied Nasada into the woods today, and she wanted to go to a particular glen near the heavy snow banks in the southern hills, and try as I might I could not convince her otherwise…"_

"_She knows better than that!" Edmund interjected in annoyance. The deep snow banks were dangerous, they easily trapped anyone who passed through unaware of their presence._

_Veltra gave a wry nod and answered, "Well, she certainly figured it out soon enough. She fell into one of them, buried almost to her head. It took such a long time for me to get her out, but I didn't want to leave her alone there while I went for help…" He trailed off with a reluctant sigh._

"_Is she alright?" Edmund pressed, growing worried for the younger girl._

"_Oh, she's fine now," Veltra hurried to assure him. "When I got her out, she was so wet and frozen, I was afraid she would catch ill. But then Fenbir showed up, and I sent her back to the Village on him, figuring he was a Horse and could get her there faster."_

"_That still does not explain what happened to you," Edmund prompted._

_Veltra gave what had to have been the Wolf equivalent of an annoyed shrug. "I fell into another snow bank as I was leaving. It had grown up around a dead tree, and some of the jagged branches caught me in the side as I tried to claw out of it."_

_Edmund frowned. "You really should see a healer. And I am going to go talk to Nasada!"_

"_Wait," Veltra said, looking incredulous, "you aren't going to tell her I was injured, are you?"_

_Edmund blinked, confused. "Of course I am. Besides, she is bound to notice."_

"_And I can give her any story," Veltra countered. "It is not as though I have not been injured before. She does not need to know." He narrowed his eyes at Edmund and continued, "She is frightened enough as it is, and certainly will not make the same mistake again. Why would you add to her guilt?"_

_Edmund refused to be swayed by Veltra's logic, but when he returned to his hut and found Nasada wrapped in a warm blanket, kneeling by the fire, her pale face filled with fear and shame as she sobbed silently and apologized over and over to Sera and Dar, he knew Veltra was right._

_She had learned from her mistake, and she would not be so careless in the future. There was no reason to add to her burden by telling her that Veltra, too, had been injured by her actions._

Edmund roughly pushed away the thoughts and focused on his brother once more. Perhaps, he admitted reluctantly and unwillingly, he could understand their actions. But that understanding did not change his own culpability in the situation, nor did it change what he needed to do.

"I'm a little tired," he murmured finally. "Being stuck in Jadis' horrible world was… exhausting. Can we finish this conversation tomorrow?"

"Of course," Peter agreed, a little hesitantly. He gave Edmund one last searching stare, but the younger boy's face revealed nothing at all.

* * *

Susan stepped nervously into the library, her eyes scanning quickly until they landed about the venerable Silrin. She approached the Creature quickly, but with an air of hesitation, as though she was not quite sure she wanted to have this conversation yet.

The satyr looked up. "Your Majesty?" he questioned, making his way through the stacks of musty tomes. They were alone in the great room, the rest of the inhabitants of the castle having long since either gone to bed or taken up their stations to guard over the slumbering city. But Susan could not sleep, not until she had this question answered.

The Gentle Queen folded her arms over her chest and shifted from foot to foot. "May I ask you a question, Silrin? In confidence?"

The old satyr looked a little confused by the request, but acquiesced immediately. "Of course, my Queen. You may always."

"I… I saw…" Susan licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. She could not find the words to express her fear or her horror, but she knew the emotions must be shinning brightly in her eyes, for Silrin grew even more alarmed. Finally, she pushed forward, "I believe I have seen the phantom of the White Witch."

Silrin was silent for a moment. Then, he asked, "Where did you see this apparition?"

"Here, at the Cair. In Edmund's room." Susan stepped away from Silrin, leading the satyr further into the stacks of books and dust-covered shelves. As they reached the back wall of the library, she glanced towards the large windows which looked out over the ocean. She could see the reflection of the moon glittering like liquid silver on the water. A few clouds drifted lazily through the starry sky, and a gentle breeze rattled tree branches against the windowpane.

It was peaceful. Perfect. Exactly like what Narnia should have been, would have been, before Jadis.

Silrin paused at her side. "Queen Susan? Did this ghost speak to you?"

Susan nodded, fighting back the tears. "She said we could not save Edmund. That he was hers." She tore her eyes away from the window and looked at Silrin. "Was it all my imagination? Or is she real? Is she actually here?"

The satyr considered the question for a moment, pondering it thoughtfully. Then he pointed to a small table near them, one covered with several ancient books and scrolls of parchment. "I have been researching as much about the Deep Magics as I can, your Majesty. They are a complicated and confusing set of laws, and I find little coherency in such texts." He turned back to Susan. "The point, my Queen, is that even with all my research and any previous information I might have had, we are still dealing with an obscure and archaic branch of knowledge. I cannot give you many solid answers… though I may be able to venture a guess."

Susan nodded. "I understand. But give me a theory, then, Silrin. Give me your best guess. Was it real? Was she actually there? Did she speak the truth? Or was it all just my imagination, my own fears?"

"I would venture to say that she is real. I do not know the full extent of her power, nor would I wish to know it, for I have no desire to understand the depths to which she can sink. However, it seems clear to me that her use of the Deep Magics has allowed her to maintain a link with King Edmund. He, too, will have seen her, or heard her voice, or felt her presence."

Susan nodded again, mutely accepting his words.

"Her link to King Edmund is through a claim to his blood. You and your royal siblings share his blood, and so she has managed to retain some form of a link to you as well."

"So that was really her… really Jadis…" Susan whispered.

Silrin nodded. "Indeed. Not her in any complete sense, of course, as she is dead. Rather an imprint, a faint echo of what she once was. But do not underestimate her, for she has powers far beyond our comprehension, and they do not all rely on any physical strength."

Susan chewed her bottom lip for a moment, mulling over the words. Then she sighed, and said, "Thank you, Silrin." It was not the answer she wanted. She would have preferred to be told it was all just her own overactive imagination, that none of this was real. But she had asked for the truth, and she could not fault Silrin for giving it to her.

As she turned to go, the satyr placed a hand on her arm. "One more thing, your Majesty," he murmured. "You must bear in mind that this is Jadis. Although her phantom may be real, it does not necessarily follow that her words must be true. She wants revenge, and she will do and say anything to get it."

That was of little comfort to Susan, particularly given that it had been not so long ago that Silrin and Oreius had informed her that Jadis' claim to Edmund's blood could not be undone. But she accepted his words for what they were – an attempt at reassurance.

"Thank you," she said again.

The reassurance did not last, however, for the very moment she arrived back at her room, she found Peter rushing towards her through the hallway, eyes wild and panicked.

"What is it? What is wrong?" Susan demanded at once.

Peter's answer was blunt and to the point. "Edmund is gone."

* * *

As it turned out, slipping out of Cair Paravel was quite a bit easier than Edmund had anticipated. Although Peter had had the foresight to place guards outside of Edmund's room, he had not realized just how determined his brother was to face the Fell Beasts alone. And so he could not possibly have predicted that Edmund would tie his bed sheets into knots and slip out the window to the ground far below.

In the darkness of the night, Edmund had no trouble at all blending into the shadows. He had spent enough time learning to move through the woods around the Village unseen, and without the heavy snow, freezing winds, and treacherous terrain, passing unnoticed through the last of the gates and out into the surrounding woods was downright easy by comparison.

The woods around him were dark and gloomy, the thickly intertwined branches of the trees blocking the pale light of the moon. Edmund shivered as he pressed further into the dark, determined to find this army. He knew that they had only retreated but had not fully left. He knew, quite well, that they would not leave until they had what they wanted – him.

It seemed to be getting colder.

He remembered, suddenly, something his mother… no, _Sera_… had told him once, about how even the trees were often forced to choose sides in any war. Many of them had sided with Jadis, knowing full well that they would be destroyed – chopped down or burnt – if they resisted against her demands.

Were they siding against him now? He was not sure he could fight the trees and Jadis and still win. Of course, he had no idea how he could fight Jadis at all, given that he didn't really understand how she was even here in the first place.

It didn't matter, though. He would figure it all out, he had to. He had no other option but to face the consequences of what he had done, and he refused to let the Witch use him as a way of hurting anyone else. If it was his actions and his very existence that was still allowing her to tether herself to this world…

He _would_ figure out a way to stop it.

He continued walking for what felt like forever, but what he knew logically could not have been more than half an hour. Eventually, it appeared as though the trees were guiding him, sway back and forth as they created a long, twisting path for him, a road to follow through their midst. And soon enough, he could hear the muttering of voices and catch a glimpse of red and yellow lights flickering in the distance, an indicator or torches and fires.

He had arrived.

* * *

Veltra stretched his front legs out in front of him and gave a very Wolf-like yawn. He was exhausted. Although he had only been at Cair Paravel for a few days, already, the stress of constantly interacting with Animals and Creatures who disliked him was taking its toll.

The barn was dry and comfortable, and although he had a feeling none of the Cows, Horses, Cats, or Dogs sleeping in the large building were too thrilled by his presence, he had refused to let them chase him away. Instead, he curled into a ball near the door and rested his head on his front paws, wondering when this would get better.

He missed having a pack. He was a Wolf, and Wolves travelled in groups. In the mountains, it had been the odd assortment of select Villagers and their Animals friends that had served as his pack, his family. And although he desperately wanted to stay with Edmund, to protect the soon-to-be king from any dangers he might encounter, the Wolf did find he was missing his wintery home.

His nostalgic thoughts were interrupted as the door of the barn abruptly swung open and the cold night air rushed in, awakening several of the sleeping inhabitants. There was a cacophony of protests from the sleepy Animals, but the noise died down almost instantly, as soon as they saw who had entered.

It was Peter.

His blonde hair was damp with moisture from the air and his eyes, pale and so unlike his brother's, held a mixture of guilt, anger, and fear. He looked around quickly, then found Veltra and marched forward with determination.

"Edmund is gone."

Veltra, ever on the defensive, sprung to his feet and snapped, "I have nothing to do with that!"

Peter threw his hands up in frustration, his temper almost bursting through his attempts at remaining calm. "I _know_ that," he retorted, shaking his head. "He's gone to face the Fell Beasts."

The Wolf's eyes widened in surprise. "What? _Why_?" There was obviously a lot more to this story than he knew, and he felt suddenly very annoyed to have been kept out of the loop. He was about to say so, when Peter spoke, his words surprising everyone in the barn.

"Can you find him?"

"Wh-what?"

"You're a Wolf," Peter said, and Veltra noticed for the first time that Peter's voice did not shake with fury or swell with disgust when he uttered the word _Wolf_. Instead, it was a simple statement of fact. "You can track people, you're good at that. Oreius told me once that nocturnal tracking is a Wolf's strongest skill." He gestured outside with one hand and gave a helpless shrug. "I could send out Owls or Bats to scan the land, but if Edmund is in the forest, they will have trouble finding him. You are better suited for this."

Peter had never liked the Wolves, never even wanted to give Veltra a chance. And Veltra was perceptive enough to suspect that there was a history there, a reason why it was Wolves that Peter hated above all else. He was sure it was partially due to the fact that it had been Wolves who had chased Edmund to the great ice wall, Wolves who were responsible for his supposed "death." And there was more as well, a series of past events that Veltra wished he fully understood.

Still, whatever the history, it did not change the fact that Peter had been irrationally opposed to Veltra from the very beginning.

And none of that changed the fact that Peter had, on more than one occasion, tolerated or even welcomed Veltra's presence. First, when the Wolf insisted on coming to the Cair with Edmund, then again when Peter suggested Veltra join Edmund's guard, and a third time when Edmund was facing the daunting task of speaking to the Cair's cooks. And now, this time, to rescue Edmund from the Fell Beasts.

Veltra had the strong suspicion that Peter would never like him. That was alright, though, because he also knew that he would never like Peter.

But in Edmund, they had found some common ground.

"Where are the Fell Beasts?" Veltra demanded, shaking away his introspective thoughts.

Peter shrugged again. "They retreated towards the woods. I imagine they are hiding somewhere just beyond our vision." He paused, then added, "The rest of Edmund's guard and a few others have been gathered. They are waiting for you. Are you coming?"

Veltra did not need to be asked again. He brushed past Peter, hurrying silently into the night, his senses already alert for any trace of his friend's scent. Peter followed, and Veltra noticed abruptly that he had strapped his sword to his belt and donned armor and a shield.

Peter was expecting to have to fight.

Which meant he imagined that Edmund would reach the Fell Beasts before they could stop him.

There was not a moment to lose.

* * *

As Veltra and the High King race against time, the battle of wills begins between Edmund and Jadis. But, without Aslan, can Peter's army possibly hope to defeat the Fell Beasts and the White Witch's power? In the end, it could very well be up to Lucy to save them in _Chapter Seventeen: In the Sun_.


	18. In the Sun

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: As Veltra and the High King race against time, the battle of wills begins between Edmund and Jadis. But, without Aslan, can Peter's army possibly hope to defeat the Fell Beasts and the White Witch's power? In the end, it could very well be up to Lucy to save them.

Author's note: I wanted to give a little back-story to the issues between Peter and Philip, something I hinted at in the first several chapters. There will be a few flashbacks regarding the conflict, the first of which is in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: In the Sun

_I picture you in the sun,__  
Wondering what went wrong.__  
You're falling down on your knees,  
Asking for sympathy_

_-_Joseph Arthur, "In the Sun"

"_I am not sure an attack on the Giants is the best option at the moment, your Majesty," Philip commented dryly, eyeing the legions that stretched out across the plains below him. He and Peter stood side-by-side, hidden behind a rocky outcropping on the side of jagged hill. The ground around them sloped unevenly downward until it reached the plains where heavy dust was rising in great clouds, disturbed by the Giant's footsteps on the ground._

_Peter grimaced, but said nothing. He looked away, back towards the snaking path they had followed through the hills. Just beyond their sight, the rest of the scouting party was camped, waiting for orders._

"_They outnumber us," Philip added when it became unclear if Peter had heard his earlier comment, or agreed with it. "It would be a massacre. We would not win."_

_It was only a few months after the fall of the White Witch, and though spring had come to Narnia, it had brought with it several new and concerning problems. The Giants of Ettinsmoor were one of those problems. Now that the Witch was gone, overthrown by Aslan and the three remaining Pevensie children, the Giants had decided to encroach upon Narnia, crossing over the border and taking some of the land for their own._

_Apparently, the Witch had terrified them much more than the Children of Adam and Eve did._

"_They have come far into our land," Peter said slowly, turning back to look at the Giants. "Too far. I could tolerate it when it was just small movements, but this… No, they have become too arrogant."_

"_It would not take long for reinforcements to arrive," Philip suggested._

_There had been some other issues, attacks in the woods around Cair Paravel, and Oreius had remained behind to deal with those problems. Peter had refused completely to allow the General to accompany this scouting mission, and Philip knew it was because he was loathe to leave his sisters without the Centaur's protection and guidance._

_Attacks around Cair Paravel struck too close to home for the High King._

"_I don't want to call Oreius quite yet," Peter said finally. "Let's see if we can handle this on our own."_

_Philip snorted in response, "Sire, they outnumber us ten to one. It would be beyond foolish to engage in combat with them." He shook his head, his mane blowing slightly in the breeze as his gaze moved from Peter back towards the Giants. "You cannot risk yourself in such a manor."_

_Peter gave him a defiantly cold look. "It is a risk I am willing to take if it keeps Narnia safe."_

"_It is a risk you are taking to keep the Queens safe," Philip countered in a low voice. He was crossing a boundary with the young monarch, but he could not stand idly by while Peter made such a mistake._

_Peter bristled at the implied accusation, the idea that he somehow did not care for the rest of Narnia. "Susan and Lucy are the heart and soul of this country. Without them… We would not survive without them."_

"_We would not survive without you, either," the Horse muttered._

"_Enough, Philip," Peter said firmly. "We have the element of surprise and the advantage of higher ground. If we use those, we may very well be able to win this battle on our own. I have made my decision, we will not call for reinforcements yet." And without sparing Philip another glance, he turned and walked away, back along the twisting, dusty path._

_The Horse took one last look at the army of Giants and let out a slow breath. Then he followed the High King through the rocky hills.

* * *

  
_

Much to Edmund's surprise, the Fell Beast army did not attack him on sight. Rather, they all paused, turning coldly gleeful faces towards him. The gloom of the night seemed to encroach just a little bit further, wrapping itself around him tightly, and he shivered in the damp air.

The army was spread out across a large clearing. The ground was dotted with small campfires and the occasional tent. A few Hags busted about, they seemed to be the leaders of the army. Among the other creatures, Edmund could see several Wolves, dwarves, Minotaurs, Snow Bears, Ravens, Bats, and the occasional Griffin.

There was no sign of Jadis.

He hadn't really thought through what would happen next. He knew that he would be forced to face Jadis, but still had no idea how he would defeat her, given that she was no longer made of flesh and bone. A simple sword would not be enough, but even if it was, he had no weapons anyway. Nor did he have the knowledge or skill to fight with them.

One of the Hags came forward then, her pale blue eyes glittering as she stared at him. "You came," she sneered. "So noble. So foolish. You were far safer with your siblings, little King."

"I don't care about being safe," Edmund answered calmly. "I am here to end this, to put it all to rest. Finally."

With a feral smile, she answered, "Do you really believe you can, Son of Adam?"

Edmund swallowed nervously. He had not been afraid until that moment, but now something was throwing him off, robbing him of his confidence. Still, it was too late to back down now. It had been too late for the past years, and perhaps everything he had said and done since entering Narnia was to lead him to this point.

Now, there was no Peter to guide him, no Susan or Lucy to support him, no Veltra to protect him. He was completely on his own, and this was his decision to make.

The Fell Beasts were closing around him from all sides, blocking off any chance of escape. But he was not looking for an escape route. Instead, he was scanning the army, watching and waiting…

He knew that _she_ would come for him.

And sure enough, moments later he felt the cool breeze of a frosty wind brush past his skin, felt an icy chill seep into his bones, both sensations he had come to associate with Jadis. As the cold bit at his skin, he saw her appear before him, wrapped in furs, blonde hair flying, eyes filled with triumph.

The rest of the Beasts did not react to the appearance of the White Witch in their midst, a clue that would have indicated to Edmund that they could not see her had he been paying attention to their actions. But his gaze was fixed on the tall woman before him, and he saw nothing else at all.

She shook her head with mocking laughter. "So you came, just like I said you would."

Edmund clenched his hands at his side as he answered, "I did not come to join you. I will not help you overthrow my siblings. I will not leave Narnia to you."

"Do you really think you have any choice?" she countered. "You cannot stop me. Even death was not enough to keep my influence from sweeping through your land." Her eyes narrowed and she reached one hand towards him, long fingers uncurling slowly. "Your blood is the key to my power. How do you possibly propose to stop me when you are the very one to keep me here?"

"You want my blood?" Edmund challenged. "Then take it." He took a step forward, his arms outstretched at either side. Strangely, Jadis hesitated, as though sensing a trap. She watched him with narrowed eyes, but he continued to stand before her, making no move to retreat.

"What madness is this, little king? Why do you so willingly give up your life?" Jadis asked with mild curiosity.

"I am not afraid of you," Edmund answered bravely, even though his voice shook and his eyes were widened with something akin to fear. But though the panic was starting to show plainly in his features, the determination in his stance never wavered, and he continued to stare at the Witch, refusing to back down from her.

"Are you not?" Jadis asked with a little laugh, a sound not unlike icicles breaking or the repeating ping of hail falling on snow. "Then you are more of a fool than I believed."

"No," Edmund answered. "I am not the fool. What do you hope to gain by shedding my blood? What could taking my life give you?"

"Revenge? Power? Sweet triumph? Take your pick, little King."

But Edmund matched her smile, his own eyes suddenly reflecting success. "Revenge? I suppose. You will forever halt the prophesy, and Narnia will not have four rulers upon the thrones. The Golden Age will never come. Your influence will continue throughout the land, winter will always be just a few heartbeats away from encroaching upon us, and your followers will cause havoc, using the remnants of your magic to fight us. Yes, you will get revenge."

He looked away from Jadis for a moment, letting his gaze wander over the army that now listened to every word with abated breath. Though they could not see the Witch, it was clear they understood just exactly who he was speaking to, and to who he was even now offering his life. Still… they shifted uneasily, sensing the presence of their leader, their deity, and yet unable to see that which they worshipped.

Edmund snapped his eyes back to Jadis and continued, "But power and triumph? What power will you get, Jadis? You are dead. Aslan killed you. And all that keeps you in this state of in-between is your claim to my blood. Once you kill me, once you take away my life, you will sever all your ties to Narnia. And you will be fully dead. Gone. Your influence may linger, but you will not. What power and what triumph will you gain from that?"

Jadis faltered, her pale skin growing even more pale at Edmund's words. But she rallied quickly and retorted, "Or ending your life will bring back mine. Do you fully understand the Deep Magic, Son of Adam? Be wary of finding yourself mixed up in powers beyond your comprehension."

Edmund bit his lower lip, hesitating with a mild frown, before saying, "I don't believe that. I don't believe you."

"And you think mere belief is enough?"

"Yes," Edmund answered staunchly. He knew Jadis could not be trusted, had known that all along. But he also knew that she was powerfully magical, and he could not possibly hope to understand all that she could do. His death might grant her life, he simply did not know.

But he could not show her that fear. He could not let her know that he was terrified. He had started on this path when he had first turned against his siblings, and before that even, when he had first become the bratty and vengeful boy that repeated mocked Lucy and yelled at Peter. And now he would see it through, to the end of the road. He had no other choice.

"Shall we find out?" Jadis murmured, taking a few graceful steps towards him.

"Go ahead. Kill me."

"Not here," Jadis whispered. "I will have your blood on the Stone Table, little King…" she reached up and ran her fingers along the check and down the edge of his jaw, "… and you will see the full extent of my power."

He flinched from her touch, his face feeling suddenly frozen as though she had somehow passed some of her own icy cold into his skin. He reached up one hand, fingers lingering gently on his cheek, and glared at her.

"Come, child," Jadis continued. "Come and meet your end. And when you are gone, Narnia will be mind once more. Aslan shall have no power here."

"Aslan will always have power here. There is nothing you can do to change that," Edmund snapped in response.

"Then where is He? Why has He not come?" Jadis hissed, smiling cruelly. "Where is His great power now? Where is His saving grace, His mercy?"

Edmund curled his lip as he replied forcefully, "His power is in the fact that others still believe in Him. And they always will. You think He is gone? You think your army has managed to claim this land again? He will never be gone, not so long as there are people who remember Him, who have faith. And you cannot change that. Even if you kill me, even if you somehow bring yourself back to life, you will _never_ succeed in making people forget Him!"

Jadis shrunk back from his furious retort. For a moment, she appeared almost weak, scared.

But then she just shook her head and said, "Such a naïve fool."

And then several things seemed to happen all at once. The clearing erupted into a cacophony of shouts and cries, of the high-pitched scrape of steel on stone and rock, and Peter, Veltra, and several other Animals and Creatures rushing headlong into a battle with the Fell Beasts. Several Hags lead the return attack, and the furious fight spread into the surrounding woods.

Edmund was so surprised that he could only stand there and gape at his older brother, but in that moment that his concentration was torn away from Jadis, the phantom of the Witch faded, disappearing from view.

And then, all at once, the world spun, growing blurry at the edges, and a sharp pain exploded in his head. He reached up, running a hand through his dark hair, and felt something sticky cover his palm. In the faint moonlight, he just barely had a chance to determine that it was blood, and then the darkness pulled him away from reality.

* * *

Veltra turned in time to see Edmund fall, a large Minotaur standing over him and wielding a blood-stained club. A nearly uncontrollable fury and bloodlust suffused the Wolf, and he pounced forward, throwing his entire weight at the much larger Minotaur. The Creature fell, a stunned and surprised look on its face, and Veltra snapped his jaws, going for the throat. The Animal who had once been horrified at the thought of taking another's life cared for nothing at all except defeating these vile Beasts.

Later, he would remember that moment. Later, he would be haunted by what he had been able to do under the influence of his rage and his desire for revenge. Later, he would vow to never get so caught up in a battle ever again.

But in that moment, Edmund was hurt, possibly dying, and nothing else mattered.

From across the clearing, a small dwarf, hidden amongst the rocks and overgrown weeds, watched as Veltra killed the Minotaur and gave a very satisfied smile.

* * *

"By the Lion, Lucy, have you gone mad?"

Lucy turned to face her irate sister, refusing to back down from the furious glare sent her way. She knew Susan would not agree to her plan, but she also knew that she would see it through, no matter the consequences. With Peter and Edmund out of the way for the moment, she doubted she would ever get a better chance.

"I know what I am doing, Susan."

Susan shook her head as she shot back, "Yes, Lu. I know what you are doing as well. You are setting yourself up to get killed." Arms folded across her chest and eyes narrowed into a thunderous expression, she continued, "And isn't it enough that Edmund might be facing that same fate? Why do you have to join him?"

"I will not die," Lucy replied firmly, her eyes filled with a reverent faith. "I know you do not understand, Susan. But I must do this. Aslan was the one who truly defeated the White Witch. And He is the one who can help us now."

"He has not come," Susan countered.

"I know," Lucy replied softly. "Which is why I am going to go looking for Him."

She had tried to believe. In the months following Edmund's disappearance, when everyone seemed to have agreed that the missing king must be dead, Lucy had still fought to have faith in Aslan. In the years that followed, when every day seemed to bring more and more reminders of Edmund, of what they had lost, she had still clung to her faith, to her unswerving devotion to the Great Lion. Even after all that time, she still believed that good would triumph, that every moment was worth living as long as she did not lose sight of what was important.

It had not been easy, and she had times when she was filled with despair and doubt. She knew her siblings did not understand how she continue to believe so strongly, and in her darkest moments, she, too, had wondered why she did not simply give up on Narnia.

But she hadn't.

For good or ill, she had fought to hold onto her optimistic and idealistic view of the world. She believed in Aslan, and she was tired of waiting. If He did not come to her, then she would go to Him.

"And how are you going to find Him?" Susan demanded as Lucy pulled on a dark travelling cloak and fastened it with a broach at her throat. "You would not even know where to start looking!"

"I do not need to know where he is," Lucy replied calmly. "I only have to start looking, and He will find me." She turned away from Susan and walked towards the door of her bedroom.

"The Fell Beasts are still out there!"

"Aslan will protect me."

"Simply because you believe in Him? We all believe in him, Lu. But He _hasn't_ come!"

Lucy turned back, her hand resting on the doorknob. Susan was near hysterical tears, and if the older sister had been able to order her younger sibling to stay in her room, Lucy had no doubt that she would have done it. But the youngest of the four was far too stubborn to listen to Susan's doubts, not now that she had made up her mind. Yes, she was afraid and unsure, but what other choice did they have?

They could not do this by themselves.

"It isn't enough, Lucy, just to believe that He will save us…" Susan whispered.

Lucy dropped her hand from the doorknob. "I know," she answered in a low murmur. "I know it is not enough. But what else can we do? I do not know why He has not come. I do not know what He is waiting for, what He expects from us. But I believe in Aslan's mercy and love, and I… I have nothing else to hope for. I have no other choices. We _need_ Him."

"And you will find him in the woods?" Susan blinked back her tears and looked away. "Peter would not agree."

"Peter is not here. He cannot stop me."

"I am here," Susan answered, her tone hard. "I can stop you." She stepped forward, catching Lucy by both arms. "You cannot do this."

"I _have_ to, Susan."

"_Why_?"

"Because he is my brother!"

Susan dropped her arms and stepped back as though physically hurt by Lucy's words. She walked across the room towards the window, gazing out at the night sky. "Do you think we don't care about him?" she asked bitterly, her harsh words unable to hide her hurt. "That he is somehow _not_ my brother?"

"I did not mean…"

"And you are our sister. How can you ask us to risk your life?"

"Susan… please, try to understand."

Susan looked over her shoulder, giving her younger sister a long stare. "I don't, Lucy. I _can't_ understand. How can you possibly ask me to stand aside and let you go out there? Into danger?" She swallowed back a sob and murmured, "You complain every time Peter goes off to war. You are always so afraid… remember that entire first year that we ruled here? You would wake up from night terrors whenever Peter was gone, screaming over and over about losing another sibling."

Lucy nodded slowly. "I remember."

"If it hurt you so much to stand back at let Peter go fight, how can you ask me to do the same for you? Is it not enough that Peter and Edmund are risking their lives? Must you join them?"

"I have to find Aslan."

It was a circular argument, and Lucy knew she would get nowhere. She could not possibly convince Susan to let her go, but she also knew that she, herself, would not back down. And judging from the mixture of resignation and frustration in Susan's eyes, Lucy had the feeling that her older sister might have already figured out that much.

Still, Susan's next words caught Lucy completely by surprise.

"Then I am coming with you."

* * *

Edmund must face the past, while Peter struggles with the future, and both find that these new revelations could destroy them. But it is Lucy and Susan who stumble across the most dangerous revelation of all in their quest to find Aslan in _Chapter Eighteen: Of Sins and Shadows_.


	19. Of Sins and Shadows

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Edmund must face the past, while Peter struggles with the future, and both find that these new revelations could destroy them. But it is Lucy and Susan who stumble across the most dangerous revelation of all in their quest to find Aslan.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Of Sins and Shadows

I've betrayed… slowly fade  
I repent my inner plea  
I've denied… sanctified  
Cannot hide from this  
Monstrosity

- Symphony X, "Of Sins and Shadows"

_The surprise attack was little more than a disaster. Luck was on their side, and perhaps Aslan was watching over them as well. They were able to successfully push the Giants back to the border of Ettinsmoor, but that was the only success they had. Severely outnumbered by the Giants, their victory came with a cost, and in the end seemed hardly like a victory at all._

_Philip watched in tense silence as Peter paced back and forth across the trampled dirt ground of their camp. They had buried their dead that afternoon, with prayers for a swift passing to Aslan's country, and now the sun was slowly sinking over the horizon, casting long shadows through the gloom._

_At last, when the silence was no longer bearable and the truth of the matter had to be faced head-on, Philip said, "They will come back. The Giants are not naïve, they know our strength was severely diminished in this battle. They will return, perhaps even tonight."_

_The High King spun, his sword gripped tightly in his fist, knuckles turning white from the strength of his fury. "And what would you have us do, Philip? Abandon our posts and retreat? That will only give them all the more reason to creep further into our lands!"_

"_Better that than to have us all die by their hands," Philip argued. "If we retreat now and call for support from General Oreius and the rest of the army, we will have enough strength and power to defeat them when we meet again."_

"_It will bring the fighting closer to Cair Paravel," Peter countered. "I cannot have our enemies wandering so deep into my lands. It is a risk I am not willing to take."_

_Philip glanced away towards the freshly dug mounds of dirt, the sign of the graves of the fallen soldiers. "Then what will you do, your Majesty?" he challenged._

_Peter did not answer, but the look of conflicted anguish on his face was enough. He did not know what to do now, did not know how to salvage this mess. It seemed as though a war was starting all around him, and he was helpless to do anything but watch in dismay._

_Philip understood Peter's desire to keep the battle as far away from his royal sisters and the other peace-loving Narnians as possible. But it was that very same desire that had lead the High King to attack the Giants without the proper backup and support in the first place. It was a desire that had blinded him to the reality of the situation._

_A king needed to protect his family, his subjects, and his lands. But sometimes that was not possible, sometimes risks had to be taken. And that was a lesson Peter had yet to learn._

* * *

Although the Fell Beast army outnumbered the forces of Narnia, they were not particularly well organized. They fought as individuals, rather than as a group, and did not even attempt to look out for each other. As a result, the battle, which should have been a massacre of the Narnians, was equally matched on both sides.

Peter swung his sword, watching as yet another Creature slid to the ground before him. The rest of his army would come soon, he knew. He had left instructions for them to be mobilized, to come to his aid just in case. But it took a long time to ready an army, and so he had not waited for them, knowing that he would have to hold his own with the scouts until they arrived.

He glanced over at Philip, watching as the Horse reared back on his hind legs and struck an opponent forcefully in the chest. The High King had made the mistake of not relying on back up once, and it had cost them all dearly. With Edmund's life hanging in the balance, he would not make that mistake again.

Edmund was lying on the ground, his eyes shut, his pale skin almost sheet white in the moonlight. His dark hair was matted down around his face, and the back of was darker, damper than the rest. Blood.

A wave of anger rushed through Peter, and he shoved his way forward, swinging his sword with deadly accuracy at anyone who blocked his path. It did not take long to reach Edmund's side, and he knelt down by his brother, worried. Veltra stood over the younger boy, his eyes filled with a bloodlust, but Peter forced himself to meet that animalistic gaze and not look away.

"We need to get him out of here."

Veltra turned, eyeing the woods. Peter followed his gaze and frowned, he did not trust them either. How many of the trees worked for the Witch? How many would turn on the unsuspecting and unconscious young boy if they tried to spirit him away to safety.

"Your Majesty! Look out!"

Peter reacted instantly to the cry, throwing himself forward so that his body fell over Edmund, protecting him from the unknown attacker. As he did so, he felt the sudden rush of wind as an axe passed through the air above him, slicing the spot where his head had been moments before.

Veltra reacted instinctively as well, leaping over Peter and slamming into the dwarf that had attacked. The two fell to the ground, caught in a tangle of limbs. Peter rose moments later, his sword flashing in the moonlight as several other dwarves came hurtling towards him. The High King at the Wolf fought side by side to drive back the attack…

Until they realized, too late to stop it, that they had momentarily left Edmund unguarded.

Turning in a rush of panic, Peter watched in horror as a Minotaur seized Edmund's body and lifted him into the air like a rag doll. Edmund's head lolled to the side, his body limp.

"Ed! _NO_!"

Peter's terrified scream was enough to bring the battle to a momentarily halt as all eyes glanced his way. Then the Minotaur started running, his long legs covering the ground far faster than Peter could.

"Stop him!" Peter cried. "Don't let him leave!"

The High King's second cry startled the battle once more, and the air was filled with the sound of clashing swords and shields, of war cries, as the Narnians struggled to reach their fallen leader. But the Minotaur was too swift for them, and made it easily to the end of the clearing before he was stopped by a well-placed spear to his back.

Peter murmured a quick, thankful prayer to Aslan for whoever had thrown that spear, but his joy was short-lived. Edmund fell from the slain Minotaur's shoulders and rolled across the rocky ground, still unconscious. He was instantly set upon by two dwarves and a Hag, all of whom scrambled to reach his body.

And Peter realized that the Fell Beasts were not trying to kill Edmund. They wanted him alive, although it was unclear why. But Jadis had laid her claim on Edmund's blood, so if they were keeping him alive now, it was only because he was meant to die later.

The thought was not a cheerful one.

Philip sprung easily over several Fell Beasts and charged the dwarves. They scattered, but the Hag viciously lunged at the Horse, a dagger clenched tightly in one fist. The silver metal slashed his skin, and the Horse pulled back with a high-pitched protest. It was not a deep cut, not life-threatening, but it deterred him long enough for the dwarves to congregate around Edmund once more.

And then something passed in front of the moon, plunging the world into darkness.

Peter looked up, unable at first to comprehend what had happened. The shadow moved slightly, a sliver of moonlight passing through, and he was able to just barely pick out the outline of a giant Bat, black as the night sky around him. The Bat wheeled about midair, thin slits of topaz eyes narrowing on Edmund. Then it opened its mouth and though Peter heard no sound, a sudden splitting headache burst behind his eyes, forcing him to his knees. All around him, Narnians and Fell Beasts alike began to cry out and shake in pain and fear.

By the time Peter could push himself back to his feet, and blink through the haze of pain, the Bat had already swooped down on its pray. Claws closed tightly around Edmund's body, and the younger Pevensie brother was carried into the air.

"No!" Peter whispered in a strangled tone. "No!"

As though on some kind of cue, the rest of the Narnian army burst into the clearing in a clattering of chaotic noise. A Golden Eagle, a Heron, and a Red-tailed Hawk all gave chase, winging after the Bat, while other Animals and Creatures fought viciously on the ground below. The Fell Beasts quickly either succumbed to their foes or fled, unable to match the power of an army determined to defend its monarchs.

But Peter was oblivious to this. All he could see, all he could focus on, was the sight of the Bat out-flying its pursuers and taking Edmund with it as it disappeared into the distant night.

"He belongs to me now."

Peter turned, already knowing who he would see. She was standing over him, an icy smirk fixed firmly on her blood-red lips. He had to fight back the urge to attack her, to drive his sword through her body. But he knew that she was not really there, that it was just a phantom, and his sword would do her no harm.

Instead, he answered, "He is not yours. He will never be yours!"

Jadis laughed cruelly. "Child, you understand so little. He is _already_ mine. He has been mine since he first betrayed this land." She reached out and touched his forehead lightly, her skin unnaturally cold. And the moment her fingers made contact with his skin, Peter found himself thrown headlong into a vision.

_Susan huddled at the base of the closed door, her eyes rimmed with red, her body shaking with violent tremors. She had been crying, that much was obvious, but she did not want him to know. Yet despite her best efforts to conceal her aching, Peter could see her anguish and her grief._

_He could not blame her for it._

_But there was something else in her eyes, something he did not want to face. It was accusation, the bitter belief that he hadn't done enough, hadn't fought hard enough to save his younger brother's life._

"_Susan…" he started, unsure what to say._

_She rose to her feet and turned to face him fully, anger reflected in her face. "How could you, Peter? How could you let this happen?"_

"_I did not… I didn't let it. I tried to save him, Susan!"_

_She shook her head and gave a dark chuckle. "Not hard enough, Peter."_

"_That is _not_ true," he hissed, incensed. "I tried my hardest. I would have given anything to save him, Susan, anything at all. I… I wasn't able to."_

_She pushed past him and walked to the window of their bedroom. "We buried Edmund," she said softly, furiously. "We took his lifeless body from the Stone Table and buried it underneath a mound of dirt! Now the Witch's army moves on Cair Paravel and we are almost powerless to stop it! This is your fault, Peter, all of it!"_

"_We will stop her," Peter vowed. "I will protect you and Lucy."_

_She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes cold. "Like you protected Edmund? You lost him… twice."_

The vision faded, but Peter did not forget the hatred in Susan's eyes or the iciness of her voice. He forced those dark thoughts back, behind locked doors in his mind, and tried to focus on Jadis, on the battle that raged all around. But Susan's face kept slipping through the cracks in his mental armor and rising to the forefront of his mind.

"That is your future, little King," Jadis said silkily. Her eyes were lit with a feral gleam as she continued, "You will lose your brother, and his death will take your sister from you as well. She will hate you for what you were unable to do."

"No…" Peter whispered.

"You cannot win. Edmund is _mine_."

* * *

"_Please, can I play, Ed? Please?" Lucy wobbled along after Edmund, her chin jutting out as she watched him push his toy soldiers back and forth across the floor of his bedroom._

_Edmund turned and shot her an annoyed glare. "No! Go away. I don't want to play with a baby."_

"_I'm not a baby," Lucy retorted, her voice shaking as tears pooled in her eyes. "I just wanna play with you."_

"_See? You are a _crybaby_!"_

"_I am not!" Her bottom lip started quivering just as the tears leaked from her eyes and made their way down her cheeks. "I am not," she said again, trying to sound determined even as more tears fell._

_The door behind them opened, and Peter stuck his head through, blonde hair falling partially over his tired eyes. "Edmund?" he asked in a stern tone. "What's going on? What did you do to Lucy?"_

_Edmund jumped to his feet angrily. "Why do you always assume I did something?" he demanded, dark eyes flashing._

"_She's crying, Ed!"_

"_It's not my fault!"_

"_What would Dad say if he knew…"  Peter's question was cut off by Edmund, who seized one of his toy soldiers and hurtled it at his older brother. "Stop it! Stop acting like you're Dad! You're not him, you're _not_!" The soldiers smashed into the wall and clattered harmlessly to the ground, and then the room was so silent. Even Lucy had stopped crying._

_The door swung open yet again, and Helen Pevensie stepped through into the room. "What is going on in here?" she demanded, sounding more disappointed than angry. "Edmund, did you throw that soldier?"_

_Edmund glanced at the broken toy lying on the ground by Peter's feet. "It's not my fault Lucy is such a crybaby," he muttered resentfully, unable to meet his mother's disapproving gaze._

Colors faded, light bounced on an empty whiteness, a void that slowly took the shape of a different memory…

_Edmund shut the door to his bedroom softly and crept over to his bed. Peter and his mother were downstairs, as was Lucy. He didn't know where Susan was, and he didn't care. With cautious movements, he gingerly eased himself onto his bed, listening closely to the sounds outside his door, just in case he heard footsteps on the stairs._

_He glanced down at the bit of skin that showed in between his sleeve and his mittens. He could still see the faint blue and purple of the bruise, the telltale signs of his confrontations with the bullies._

The memories did not appear to be in any particular order, but they came with blinding ferocity, flooding his mind, filling his memory, painting a portrait he did not want to see…

_He left the Beavers' dam and started walking, his footsteps silent, muffled by the snow. It was cold, and the wind bit into his skin. He should have taken the fur coat with him, but he had been eager to slip out of the dam unnoticed. Not that they would pay any attention to him anyway. Peter and the others were too caught up in takes of Aslan and some prophesy to notice him._

_Well, he thought vindictively, that would change. When he was the prince, they would have to pay attention to him._

_The sweet taste of Turkish Delight lingered in his mouth, pulling him forward towards the distant ice palace._

Another memory, a different occasion, and the dizzying sensation of travelling backwards through time…

_He could hear snippets of a conversation, words floating to his through the partially-closed door. He wasn't sure who his mother was speaking to, although he thought he recognized the voice. A neighbor, perhaps, or some other close friend?_

"…_just worried about Edmund… and without his father around… yes, I know… still… ever since he started at that school… needs a male influence… fights with Peter… I'm not sure… I just wish… yes…"_

"_Ed? Why are you sitting on the stairs?"_

_Edmund started. He had been so intent on eavesdropping that he had not heard Susan approach until she was standing right behind him. Her gaze moved in between him and the door, her expression disapproving. Lips pressed into a thin line, and it was clear she was about to give him a lecture._

"_Go away, Susan," he snapped irritably, rising to his feet. "Leave me alone."_

_More words floated through the space between the door and the wall, washing over the two siblings. "…boys will be boys. I know. But…"_

"_It is not polite to listen to people's private conversations," Susan said severely. "Mum taught you better than that."_

"_Stop lecturing me! Go away. Go play with the baby!"_

"_Don't call Lucy that," Susan retorted, eyes narrowing. "Can't you at least try to be nice to her? She is your sister. If you had wanted Peter and I would play games with you even though you are younger than us."_

"_I never asked you to! I don't want to. Just go away."_

_This time, their mother's voice was raised slightly in volume and tinged with exasperation as she said, "I know. But I never had these sorts of problems with Peter."_

_Edmund paled slightly, then shoved past Susan and ran up the stairs._

Back to Narnia again, and the cold seeped into his bones, filling his chest with ice as the memory played before his exhausted mind…

_He ran._

_The braches of trees snapped at his heels, snaring his clothing and scratching his skin, but he paid them little attention. All he could think of was the memories of the Wolves headed towards his siblings, death on their minds, of Mr. Tumnus' horrified expression forever emblazoned in stone, and of the overwhelming need to get away from Jadis._

_The distant howls were getting closer and the trees clumped together all around him. Would he escape? It had been a foolish decision to run from the sleigh. He could not outrun the Wolves, could not escape her if she had her servants with her. But what else could he do? He would not stay and become one more instrument of her power._

_It was cold. So cold._

_And then…_

White. A blanket of white everywhere. Stark white and blinding, like snow right after a blizzard when the sun hits it in all the wrong places. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, peering through the brilliant blaze, wishing he could see.

"Did you like what you learned, little king?"

He knew the voice, even if he couldn't see her yet. He turned towards the general direction it had come from, and watched as the whiteness faded back and a shadow emerged, slowly taking shape. She towered over him, blocking out the sun, and slowly his vision returned and he could see the blanketed landscape of Narnia in winter.

"This is not real," Edmund said firmly. "I woke from your nightmares once, and I can do it again."

Jadis smiled, seemingly amused by his assertion. "Perhaps you will waken this time. And perhaps the next. But slowly you will lose your strength, and there will come a time when you do not awaken from my power."

"Your power is useless if it can only affect me while I am asleep," Edmund retorted, sounding far braver than he felt. The idea that he could be trapped, indefinitely, in any realm where Jadis was in charge… well, that was terrifying.

She shook her head, eyes glittering. "You did not answer my question, Son of Adam. Did you enjoy the memories? Did you enjoy what you saw?"

He stared at her. The memories were fresh on the surface of his mind. He remembered everything… everything he had done and said, and all the things he _hadn't_ managed to accomplish. But the memories were still foreign. They felt as though they belonged to someone else, they had yet to merge with his own memories of the Village. Would that happen soon, he wondered, and would it affect anything about him? Would his personality change? Surely he wouldn't revert back to the beastly child he had been?

He wasn't sure, and he didn't like not knowing.

"You see now, why your siblings were so adamant to keep secrets from you. You have betrayed them, and for what? Nothing more than Turkish Delight."

Edmund shivered at the cold tone and forced himself to meet her eyes. "I am not that boy."

She extended her hand towards him, a tiny drop of silver liquid falling from a crystal vial and splashing on the snow-covered ground between them. A platter appeared, laden with Turkish Delight.

"Are you hungry?" the White Witch crooned. "Would you like a sweet?"

Edmund forced himself to turn away, disgusted. How many times had he made Lucy cry? How many fights had he picked with Peter? How many arguments had he started with Susan?

How many times had he felt simply not good enough, not special?

Not Peter.

He looked around. How was Peter faring? Had the Fell Beast army driven him back, or had the High King overcome the challenge and won? Or had…

No, he would not think of that. He would not imagine that Peter could have…

But though he wanted desperately not to think those dark thoughts, Jadis seemed to easily pull his worries from his distraught expression, and she said maliciously, "Your precious Peter fights a battle he cannot hope to win. He is too outnumbered. And you are here, stuck in your mind, unable to help. Tell me, will you feel remorse when he…"

"He will _not_ die!" Edmund snarled, interrupting the Witch before she could finish her statement.

She smirked silently back at him.

He looked past her at the rest of the world. Her ice palace rose in the distance, outlined against the blue sky from its spot nestled between the hills. The wind whistled through the dry tree branches all around them, filling the air with the sound of crackling wood.

"You care much for your brother, don't you?" Jadis murmured. "And he cares for you as well, I imagine."

"_Eddy? It's the middle of the night. Go back to bed."_

"_Don't wanna. Can't sleep."_

"_Go tell Mum or Dad."_

"_Can't I just stay with you?"_

"_Did you have a nightmare? You're too old to have nightmares."_

"_Please, Peter?"_

_Sigh. "Fine. You can stay here."_

Edmund licked his dry lips and walked away from her. He doubted it would do much good, she would simply follow. But the memories were too much to handle. He _had_ loved his siblings, and they had loved him, but somehow that had gotten lost in the mess he had made of his life.

"You cannot run, little king, and there is nowhere to hide."

* * *

They did not know where they were going or how they were supposed to get there. The idea of seeking out Aslan had been a good one, at least in Lucy's mind, but it had also been almost completely theoretical. Now that the two of them stood in the woods outside of the Cair, clutching their thin cloaks around their bodies to keep out the chilly breeze – now that they had to think over the practical aspects of the matter – Lucy found she had no idea what to do.

But Aslan had to be out there somewhere. It was simply inconceivable that He wasn't somewhere near by, waiting for them to find Him.

With those thoughts in mind, Lucy set out through the trees, trusting her instincts to guide her. Susan drifted behind, a little more unsure, but unwilling to leave her sister alone.

The moonlight cascaded down through the branches of the trees, casting strange shadows across the forest floor. The wind whistled, and something moved all around them in the woods, sliding in and out of the dark. And Screech Owl trilled out a cry in the distance, and the night settled even closer around them.

"This is a bad idea," Susan whispered. "We should have brought someone with us. A guard or something…"

"It's fine," Lucy hissed back. "Don't worry about it. Aslan will protect us."

The silence from Susan was laden with skepticism and worry, but the older sister continued to follow the younger through the woods.

Something moved again, and Lucy turned towards it. She opened her mouth to say something, and at her side Susan quickly strung an arrow to her bow. They had brought little in the way of weapons, but Susan had insisted that they at least be somewhat well protected.

Lucy's hand fell to the dagger clasped at her waist.

But as they crept closer to the movement, they found they did not need to be worried after all.

It was the trees. They were dancing.

The glen was small, and carpeted in a thick layer of lush grass dotted with tiny wildflowers. There were several trees swaying back and forth in the wind, their branches moving in elaborate patterns as they weaved in and out of each other. The air was filled with the scent of roses, and petals floated about, intertwined in the hair of almost invisible wind sprites. A few Rabbits and Mice paraded about in the undergrowth, their paws beating out a rhythm on the soft earth, marking time to a song that Susan and Lucy could not hear.

"Oh… Susan," Lucy breathed, words catching in her throat.

The scene was almost hypnotic.

One of the sprites turned at the sound of Lucy's voice and darted forward, floating in midair before them. She tilted her head to the side, silver eyes filled with laughter.

"Excuse me," Susan said politely, "but have you seen Aslan?"

The sprite shook her head, petals falling from her transparent hair. She giggled, her voice sounding like raindrops on tin. "Haven't seen Him, haven't seen Him," she answered in a sing-song tone.

Lucy continued to stare at the dancing trees, almost oblivious to all else, until Susan tugged at her arm. "Lu, come on. We need to go." She turned to leave, walking back the way they had come.

Lucy stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. "No. No, we need to keep going this way, Susan."

The older girl frowned, puzzled. "How do you know?"

But Lucy didn't answer. She was far too intent on the task at hand, and ignoring Susan's protests, she walked further into the glen. The trees swayed out of her way and the sprites laughed as they glided way from her. She smiled, moved by the innocence of their expressions, and awed by the way the moonlight reflected off of everything, filling the clearing with sparkling light.

"Lucy! Lucy, wait. _Lucy_!"

Susan stumbled over the hem of her gown in her haste to keep up with Lucy's determined stride. She righted herself, and the two girls passed through the clearing and entered back into the woods. They seemed suddenly much darker and far more unwelcoming than they had before, the comparison with the glowing glen standing out in stark contrast.

"This way," Lucy said, and she kept walking. She could not explain it to Susan, and so she knew there was no point in even trying to put her vague thoughts and impressions into words. Her sister was logical and rational, and she did not believe in anything that could not be explained. Lucy's bumbling attempt to make sense of her emotions would only make Susan even more wary of this adventure.

But Lucy knew that Aslan was out there. And she knew that as long as they kept looking for Him, sooner or later He would be found.

"Lucy, this is madness," Susan said, pausing to catch her sister by the arm and force her to stop.

Lucy gave her a level stare. "If it is such a foolish idea, why did you insist on accompanying me?"

"To keep your idealism from getting you killed," Susan retorted. "I do not wish to bury a sibling. _Any_ of them."

"No one is dying tonight," Lucy said firmly. "Come. Aslan is this way."

"But how do you _know_?"

Lucy shrugged. "I just do. Come, Susan. Have faith."

They continued walking, thought the forest became less friendly. The trees grew too close together, and the tangled branches blotted out the faint light of the moon and the stars. There was no more dancing, no sense of ease or happiness, nothing but a heavy silence that blanketed everything in stillness and shadow.

Time dragged on, and the night grew darker. But the two girls continued to walk, pushing their way forward, intent on the final destination.

And then He appeared.

It should have been dramatic. Lucy had half-expected a crash of symbols and a sudden burst of trumpets, or the moon to shine so much brighter, or the world to erupt into a kaleidoscope of color. There should have been something awesome and inspiring and hopeful. She should have felt different.

But there was no fanfare. The Great Lion stepped into view at the top of the hill before them, winding His way between the closely-growing trees. He was every bit as majestic as she had remembered, and the sight of Him was every bit as wonderful as she had hoped.

But the woods were still all around them, trapping them in the interlocking shadows of the night. After all the arguing, all the fighting, all the danger, this was anticlimactic.

Lucy raced forward and through her arms around Aslan, twisting her fingers into His mane. "Aslan, oh Aslan!" she cried, her words muffled by his fur.

"Hello, dear one," He replied, His voice low and deep, His rumbling words washing over the two girls.

Susan came forward slowly, almost unable to believe what she was seeing. She paused before the Lion, a shiver running up her spine, and Lucy turned to face her, waiting for her to speak. But Susan could not find her voice, and so she simply stood there, staring.

"Susan," Lucy chided, "say something."

Susan swallowed back her own complicated emotions – the fear for Edmund, the relief at seeing Aslan, the anger that He had not been here before – and forced herself to speak. "Edmund is alive."

"I know, child," Aslan answered. "I know."

"You must help him… Jadis… she wants…" Susan stammered through her words. She paused, drew a breath. "Please. We need Your help. We've needed it for a while now."

There was no reprimand or reproach in her tone, but Lucy flinched all the same, annoyed at her sister's reaction. They had finally found Aslan, now they had the chance to rescue Edmund from Jadis' influence. The past could be dealt with later, it was the future that needed to be saved now.

Aslan stepped forward, coming to a stop before Susan. He nuzzled her gently, and she leaned into his fur, feeling his breath roll over her face.

"Peace, child," He said in a soft whisper. "Release the fear from your heart."

She wanted to, she really did. But the fear would not fade, would not give up its vice-like grip on her chest, and every breath she drew was filled with more pain and more terror.

"Please, Aslan," Susan said, tears pricking at her eyes as she wrapped her arms around His neck, "help Edmund. _Please_."

"My child," Aslan replied, "it is not so simple as you wish to believe."

"You will not help him?" Susan asked.

He pulled back, shifting His head to look at both her and Lucy. "Dear ones," he said slowly, regretfully, "it is not that I do not wish to help your brother. Rather, it is that I _cannot_ help him."

* * *

The fight between Edmund and Jadis continues within Edmund's mind, and Aslan returns to Cair Paravel in _Chapter Nineteen: Details in the Fabric._


	20. Details in the Fabric

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: I had some trouble writing Aslan, so I apologize if His character is a little off. I am trying to present Him a little bit differently than He is often described – He is a little more distant, for reasons that will become clearer soon.

Summary: The fight between Edmund and Jadis continues within Edmund's mind, and Aslan returns to Cair Paravel.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Details in the Fabric

_If it's a broken part, replace it,  
If it's a broken arm, then brace it,  
If it's a broken heart, then face it._

_And hold your own, know your name.  
And go your own way.  
And everything… everything will be fine._

_- Jason Mraz, "Details in the Fabric"_

"_Philip, try to understand his point of view…"_

_The Horse glared at the Centaur, as though his look of pure fury might somehow be enough to erase those words, or even better, to erase the memory of what had happened, what Oreius was speaking of. But no amount of prayer or pleading could ever make him forget that…_

"_His Majesty's point of view nearly destroyed us."_

"_The Giants nearly destroyed us. The High King was only doing the best he could with the circumstances that were given to him. We cannot doubt his love for his land of his desire to protect it."_

_Philip lowered his gaze finally and looked away. "No," he agreed with a slight sulk, "I do not doubt that. I never have. I simply wish…" He paused, unable to finish the sentence, unsure what exactly it was he was wishing would happen._

"_The attack was a disaster," Oreius agreed slowly, thoughtfully. "And perhaps it would have worked better if King Peter had acted differently, had made different choices. Perhaps it all would have ended up exactly the same. Even Aslan cannot say all that might have been."_

_Philip nodded. "I know. And I do not wish to undermine his authority. He is the king. But I… My loyalty is to Narnia first. And he… he was reckless. He put Narnia in danger. How can I… how can I reconcile that?"_

"_You may doubt his actions, but not his motives. Do you really believe he does not care for our safety?"_

_Philip snorted. "I think, sometimes, he cares too much. He cannot protect us all. Sometimes… sometimes it is just… not everyone can be saved."_

"_I know that."_

_Both Philip and Oreius started at the sound of the new voice. They had not heard Peter approach, and would have stopped the conversation long before if they had known he was standing behind them. But it was too late to change what they had said, what he had heard._

"_Your Majesty," Philip began, but Peter interrupted him._

"_I know I cannot protect everyone. That is a lesson I learned when my brother…" He stopped, blinked rapidly and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Drawing a slow breath, he continued, "But I will still try. Perhaps it is futile, but I will still do everything in my power to keep war from reaching Narnia." He turned and stalked away, leaving Philip and Oreius to stare after him._

"_You cannot doubt his heart," Oreius said again, his words filled with rebuke, "nor his determination, nor his loyalty. I will speak to him about your concerns, but… you must know that it will take time for him to master the art of making such difficult choices. You have not lost what he has, nor are you responsible for the fate of all of Narnia. With those burdens on your shoulders, you might act differently as well."_

_Philip looked away. He did not turn back, not even when he heard the sound of heavy hoof-beats on the ground signaling Oreius' departure. The centaur General had not been there when the Giant's had attacked again, and so he had no way of knowing what it had felt like, how they had all been fighting for their lives, falling into a disarray of panic and fear. They had barely made it out alive, and they had been forced to retreat back into Narnia._

_Retreat. Exactly what Philip had suggested in the first place, a move that would have saved them from the brutal and pointless battle that had occurred that night._

"_I do not doubt your heart," he said to no one in particular, "but I am still frightened."_

* * *

They won, but it was not enough. The Fell Beasts fled, disappearing into the night, and it meant nothing at all to Peter, because though they had pushed back the enemy, they had not won enough. They had not rescued Edmund.

Jadis was gone, slipping away as quietly and mystically as she had come, and Peter was left behind in the clearing, surrounded by his soldiers and yet still feeling so alone.

"Your Majesty?"

It was Philip. He came to the High King, his flanks still bleeding, his expression filled with concern. Peter turned to him, then looked past the Horse and saw Veltra, snout covered in blood, eyes burning brightly with an instinctual desire to fight. And beyond the Wolf, the rest of the army, awaiting instructions.

What was he supposed to tell them?

"We've sent several scouts out into the woods, and some into the air," Philip said in a low voice. "They will find your brother."

But would they find him in time?

In an even lower voice, Philip said, "If he was dead, you would feel it. But he is not dead yet, is he? There is still hope." A pause, as Peter stared at him blankly, filled with despair, then, "The army needs its leader. We need our King. Your brother needs you to… to lead us. We can still find him."

Peter nodded slowly, glumly. He wanted, more than anything, to forget about his responsibilities to his subjects and focus only on Edmund. He wanted to rush off on some wild-goose chase through the woods, seeking Edmund and his own revenge against the ones who had taken his brother.

But he'd made mistakes like that in the past. He had to take the risk of waiting, to allow himself to regroup and to come up with a plan. He could best help Edmund by proceeding with logic and reason, not with the tumultuous flood of emotions that currently threatened to overwhelm him.

He looked towards the sky, towards the direction the Bat had gone.

"Your Majesty?"

He looked at Philip and drew a long, slow breath. Then, raising his voice, he called out an order, "We will return to Cair Paravel. Anyone who has been injured will see a Healer immediately. Then I will hold a war council. We do not have much time, but we will stop this threat. We will stop the Fell Beasts and the Witch. We _must_."

A murmur of assent ran through the gathered soldiers and they turned, falling into lines and formations as they began the walk back to the Cair.

"Oreius," Peter called as he pushed his way through the others. "Will you stay behind to preside over the burials?" he asked, gesturing to the slain bodies around him. It was customary for a soldier to be buried where he died in tribute to the fact that he had died defending his land and his home. And although Peter, as High King, would have usually done the ceremony himself, he could not take the time to do it now. Oreius, as the General of the army, was next in line for the task.

"Yes, your Majesty," Oreius agreed. "I will meet you at the Cair when I am done." And the Centaur drew away from the High King, searching through the assembled soldiers for others to help him with the important task of honoring the dead.

Peter ran a hand through his sweaty hair and gave one last look to the sky, to where he had seen his unconscious brother disappear, and then joined the army on their trek back to Cair Paravel.

* * *

"This is not real. This is not real. This is not real." It had become Edmund's mantra, and he muttered the words over and over, praying to Aslan that he would wake from the dream. But try as he might, he could not force his eyes open, could not leave behind the land of ice and snow.

Jadis watched him with an amused smirk, her arms folded over her chest. An ice throne had seemed to come from nowhere, rising out of the ground, and she now reclined against it, wrapped in her warm furs, her wand clutched tightly in her hands.

Finally, Edmund opened his eyes and looked back at her. "Why are you doing this?" he asked at last. "Why do you want me trapped in my dreams?"

She shrugged. "I find it amusing, Son of Adam. And I have been bored for a very long time."

"Amusing?" Edmund sputtered, shivering. His fingertips had started to turn white, and he had no doubt that his lips were blue from the cold. "You would destroy a land just for amusement?"

"No," she answered. "I destroy it for power. The amusement is simply a benefit that I do not wish to waste." She stretched out a pale arm, her hand open, palm facing the sky. "Come, little prince. Are you cold? Would you like a blanket?"

"You cannot win," Edmund snapped. "I do not care what you do to me here. I will never agree to join you, and you will never be strong enough to defeat Aslan."

"But I have already won," Jadis answered. "I have taken your life."

"Not yet," Edmund countered.

But Jadis simply shook her head at him. "Haven't I?" she asked softly, menacingly. Her words were dangerous and cold, matching the look of triumph in her eyes. "That is why you came, is it not? To sacrifice your life for the Greater Good? To _die_?"

Edmund backed away from her, his boots sinking further into the snow. It made it hard to move, and slush crept up the sides of his legs and into the tops of his boots, melting into cold water and running down towards his feet. He was freezing, wet, and tired.

"I came to defeat you. I don't care how I do it."

"So noble, little prince," she mocked. "And so foolish, so pathetic."

"It is not pathetic," Edmund hissed, flushing darkly. "Once I am gone, you will be nothing. You might say you have a plan, a way to avoid that law, but you don't. It is a lie, all of it. If I die, you will be _completely_ gone! The Deep Magic cannot be undone, the laws cannot be rewritten. You know that as well as I."

Jadis did not answer right away, and Edmund felt a brief flicker of hope, of triumph. But when she spoke, her words did not waver, her tone did not fill with regret or despair. Instead, she stared at him with the same gloating pleasure, with a smugness as though she knew much more than he could ever even imagine.

"Still, I do not think it is a very brave way to attempt to defeat your enemies," she answered with a sneer.

"Do you really believe dying is _easy_?" Edmund demanded incredulously.

She descended from her throne, lifting her wand and pointing it at him. He inhaled sharply, almost expecting the flash of light that would turn him to stone. But instead of her magic, all he received were her bitter and biting words.

"Far easier than to keep living and keep fighting. You do not want to have to face the truth. You betrayed your siblings, betrayed Narnia, and you think that by sacrificing your life, you will never again have to face the consequences of your actions. How many Narnians do you think hate you, little prince? They might treat you with respect to your face, but don't you wonder now, in the dead of the night, what they really think? When your sister's darling faun friend confronted you about the truth, didn't you think that perhaps everyone hated you as he did? Didn't you want never to have to face them again?"

"That is not true…" But his denial was weak, his words shaking with distress and guilt.

"You think death will end your relationship with your siblings, and that is so much more preferable than having to look in their eyes now that you remember the past. Even without your memory, you knew something was wrong and you did not want to have to deal with it. You did not want to have to take those stumbling, awkward, painful steps towards rebuilding what you had lost. You hate this life they dragged you to, hate that you were taken from your home in the Village where you truly want to be. And it is hard to go forward, so why move at all? Why not simply end everything, permanently? It is the far easier route."

"Stop it," Edmund whispered, horrified. "_Stop it_."

She seized his arm with one hand, her nails biting into his skin. He looked down to see the tiny drops of blood forming around the indentation of her hand, then forced himself to look back into her cruel eyes.

"You are a coward. Nothing more, nothing less. And you will help me, Son of Adam, whether you want to or not."

He tried to pull away from her, but felt as though he could not move. For a moment, he wondered if she had turned him to stone, and he simply hadn't realized it yet. But he could still feel his own chest rising and falling with uneven and panicked gasps of air, and that alone indicated that he must be alive.

"This is not real," he whispered again.

She dropped his arm and hit him, the back of her hand colliding with the side of his face. He fell, collapsing into the snow, and as she stood over him, her shadow blocking out the glare of the sun, he felt nothing but unadulterated fear.

He tasted blood and touched his lip, realizing that she had broken the skin.

"Does it not feel real?" she asked, her tone sickeningly sweet. "Do you not hurt?"

Edmund did not answer.

She turned her back on him and walked away through the snow, her words floating towards him on the wind. "I have heard that humans are often plagued by these emotions, that they can cause more pain than any physical injury. I did not understand how true that was until I met you and your three siblings. But now I see… emotional pain is so much more rewarding than anything physical."

"You are saying all this just to hurt me?" Edmund asked. "You are wrong, if you think you can somehow manipulate me into helping you."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "The truth often hurts far worse than lies. And you will help me."

Edmund pulled himself back to his feet. "Never," he replied.

Her laugh was cold and jarring. "You say that, over and over, with the naïveté of a child who believes mere words will change his fate."

"Aslan will defeat you, even if I cannot," Edmund said, feeling suddenly exhausted. He wavered, almost falling back to his knees. The world around him seemed to grow fuzzy, to fade in and out of focus. He tried to force himself to stare at the Witch, to stay upright and strong and defiant.

But the weakness in his knees was too much, and he finally gave in to the weariness. With a dizzy moan, he fell to his hands and knees. "What did you do to me?"

The White Witch slid back onto her ice throne and regarded him coolly. "Nothing. Your psyche is getting tired. Your mind cannot handle the stress. You are doing this to yourself." With a gloating smile, she added, "I am just here to enjoy your suffering."

"Enjoy it while you can," Edmund spat.

Jadis was silent for a moment, as though contemplating what to say next. Finally, she said, "You are right, the Deep Magics cannot be rewritten. And all traitors must forfeit their blood to me." She interlaced her fingers, the wand now resting at her side. "So your blood is my tie to this world."

"And when I die…"

"You will not lose your blood," Jadis cut in smoothly. Edmund stared at her, not quite sure he understood, and she continued, "Not fully. It is not your body's death that I am demanding."

"Then what?" Edmund breathed.

"Your soul. When it dies, you will be mine."

"You cannot have my soul," Edmund retorted.

She smiled. "We shall see," she answered cryptically. "We shall see."

And then she waved her arm, her wand lifted aloft over her head, and the world around them seemed to change. No longer was the land covered in a heavy blanket of white snow, no longer were they out in the wilderness, surrounded by cold and ice. The scenery was replaced with the finery of Cair Paravel, but everything was shadowed with a darkness.

"What is this?" Edmund asked, biting back a wave of nausea and pulling himself to his feet. He looked around, trying to take in the sights, trying to understand.

The Cair had changed. No longer was it filled with the lightness and laughter of Animals and Creatures going about their every day matters. It was dark, and gloomy, and the only Creatures that could be seen were Fell Beasts with dark and gloomy expressions.

"This is your home, Edmund," Jadis answered. "This is what it will become. This is what _you_ will become."

Edmund turned and looked up at the highest balcony of the Cair. He could see himself standing on it, staring out into the dark sky. Even from this distance, he could see the cold, hard look on his strange counterpart's face, and the haunted expression that just barely managed to gleam from the otherwise emotionless eyes.

"What… what am I?"

"You are the King," Jadis answered. "_My_ king."

Edmund glanced around once more. The road that lead through Cair Paravel was broken in places, jagged stone edges sticking up among the dirt and dust. The barn, which had once housed the great Stallions and Mares of Narnia was covered in moss and fungi, overgrown by weeds and destroyed by time. The Cair itself seemed different, and it took Edmund a moment to realize that there were icicles hanging from every corner.

"Winter is coming," Jadis remarked casually. "Snow will blanket the land, and ice will stick to the trees. They will not dance any longer. And Narnia will return to me."

"But… Peter, Susan, Lucy…"

"Stone." Jadis gestured with one hand, and Edmund felt his heart plummet into his stomach and his lungs suddenly stop working.

There, in the middle of the courtyard, three stone statues stood out against the pale light, illuminated by flickering torches that burned along the exterior wall. The statues, so still, so straight, so silent… so familiar.

"No… that's not… I will never…"

Jadis laughed, a cold, cruel laugh. "We shall see," she said again. "We shall see."

* * *

Peter stared hard at the Great Lion, almost unable to believe what he was seeing. It simply did not make sense to him, and he could in no way understand how Aslan was here, at the Cair, waiting for him. But Susan and Lucy stood behind Him, their expressions unreadable but their presence enough to convince Peter that this was not some sort of strange mirage, and illusion that would only lead him astray.

This was real.

Aslan was here.

"Aslan…" he breathed, relief flooding through his veins. "Oh, Aslan… Edmund… he… they have him."

"You didn't… you didn't get him back?" Susan asked, speaking before Aslan had a chance to say anything. She looked distraught, almost confused, and she took a few steps forward hesitantly. "Is he…?"

"He's still alive," Peter said quickly, forcefully. The memory of Jadis' vision flashed before his eyes, and he recalled Susan's angry face and harsh words, the way she had blamed him for Edmund's death. It wasn't real, he knew it wasn't real, but the guilt still bubbled in his stomach as stared at her stricken expression.

"How do you know?" Susan whispered.

"I just do," Peter replied forcefully. "He's alive, Susan. And we're going to get him back. Aslan is here now and…" He trailed off, the question exploding into his mind before he could stop, and he just barely clamped his mouth shut in time. He had wanted to ask _where were You before? Where were You when Edmund first came back to us? How did You not know he was still alive?_

"We should talk," Lucy murmured, her eyes travelling to all the others who had gathered to watch the exchange. "In private," she added when Susan and Peter gave her blank looks.

Peter nodded. "I called for a council."

"Come, Peter," Aslan said softly, His voice a low rumble, "let us walk first." It was the first words He had spoken since Peter had arrived, and they washed over Peter bringing the oddest combination of calm and fury.

Peter looked away, nodded slowly, and followed Aslan, Susan and Lucy trailing behind. The other Narnians backed away, their expression filled with grateful awe, and Peter knew they all believed that with Aslan here, Edmund would see be back.

Peter wished he could believe that as easily.

And so it was that the four of them were soon walking along the outside corridor of the castle, overlooking the water as the sun rose over a distant horizon and turned the sky a fiery shade of red and orange. Lucy had to walk quickly, taking extra steps to keep up with the other's pace, while Aslan slowed down and seemed to sort of amble along, matching His stride to that of the three anxious humans.

"Aslan, can You… help?" Susan asked finally, tentatively. She paused mid-stride and turned to face the Lion, tears pooling in her eyes. "The witch… Jadis… she wants Edmund and I… you said You could not help him, but there must be _something_ you can do."

Peter stopped as well, his mind locking in on what Susan had said, his eyes going wide with horror and anger. "You cannot help him?" he demanded furiously before he could even think to stop the words from leaving his mouth. "He could die! Narnia could be lost! And You cannot… You cannot _help_ him? You cannot help _us_?"

"Peter," Lucy chided gently, forever the voice of faith, "I am sure there is a way."

"Susan thinks otherwise, and He apparently agrees with her," Peter retorted, and though he did not take his eyes from Aslan, he still knew that his youngest sibling had flinched at the harshness of his tone. Guilt momentarily crept into his mind, and he knew he should not have been so rash in his words. But his temper was growing increasingly shorter as time progressed, and he did not know how to keep the anger at bay.

Not now that Aslan was here… and apparently unable to help.

"Peter," Aslan murmured His same low, rumbling growl, "I know you are afraid. But you must not let that fear blind you, nor let your actions come before your thoughts."

"How? How can I let go of my fear when You say there is no way to help my brother?"

"I did not say there was no way," Aslan countered softly, "only that I could not save him Myself."

"Is there a way, then?" Susan asked hopefully.

"Tell Me, what happened during the battle?"

Peter frowned, not wanting to waste time on pointless words, but the look in Susan's eyes – the stern glare she turned on him – made him reconsider arguing with the Lion. He took a slow breath, then said, "We fought them. But… a Bat came and took Edmund. We tried to stop him… the Bat… but we couldn't… He couldn't reach him in time. And the Bat… he left. Carried Edmund off into the sky. And then… then _she_ was there."

"Jadis?" Lucy whispered.

Peter nodded mutely.

"What did she say?" Aslan pressed when it became clear that Peter was not going to continue the narrative.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "That I had lost. That Edmund was already hers."

"Was Edmund conscious at the time?" Aslan questioned.

Peter shook his head, wondering how this was relevant. "No. No, he wasn't. He… he'd been attacked, knocked unconscious by… by a Minotaur."

Aslan accepted this in silence for a moment, then said, "Jadis' only means of truly reaching Edmund is through your brother's mind. Did the Minotaur actually attempt to kill Edmund?"

Peter closed his eyes, trying to remember. It had all happened so fast, and he couldn't clearly recall the details. But… "I don't think so," he said finally, choosing his words carefully. "I cannot be certain, but… the Minotaur did have the chance to kill Edmund. He snuck up behind Ed unnoticed by anyone… he could have stabbed Edmund, mortally wounded him. But he didn't. He… he struck him on the back of the head with a club."

"The Fell Beasts do not wish your brother dead," Aslan mused, nodding His great head with a sense of understanding that only served to increase Peter's dread. "We have some time, although not much."

Something inside Peter snapped, the way a twig will break if too much pressure is applied to either end. Before he knew what he was saying, the words were pouring from his lips, laced with a bitterness he did not even know he possessed.

"We would have had more time if You had come earlier! We would have had more time if You had offered us help when Edmund first arrived! We would have had more time if we had found him in that Village at any point in the last few years! We would have had more time if…"

"Peter!" Lucy interjected, her eyes filling with tears at his accusations.

"Edmund has been captured by the Fell Beasts," Peter snarled, spinning to face his sister. "He's with Jadis. _Again_. And we're supposed to believe that everything will work out because we have a little bit of _time_?"

"Peter, stop it," Susan snapped, wrapping an arm around Lucy's shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

Peter took a few heaving breaths and turned away from the others, staring out at the sea. He was glad that they were alone, that the rest of the inhabitants of Cair Paravel were not there to witness his anger or his despair. But something was wrapping tightly around his chest, cutting off his ability to think about anything except his own pain and Edmund's absence, and he simply could not stop the words that demanded to be uttered.

"Did You know?" he asked, not facing Aslan. "Did You know that Edmund was alive? Did You know that he was in those mountains?"

Aslan did not answer the question. Instead, He said, "We must focus on your brother, Peter. What did Jadis say to you? What specifically did she do?"

Peter wrapped his arms around himself and said, "She showed me a vision of the future."

"What did you see?"

Peter slanted a quick look at Susan as he answered, "Susan and I were arguing. Edmund was dead, and she… she blamed me for it. She hated me for not being able to save him. We were… we were all going to die. Jadis was winning."

"I would never…" Susan started in a hushed voice, outrage and sympathy mixing on her face.

Lucy spoke at the same time, her words interrupting Susan's refusal, "Jadis lies."

Peter didn't answer, just gave a small shrug. He knew that both his sisters were right, that Susan would not turn on him so easily and that Jadis did lie. But it was hard to forget what he had seen, hard to convince himself that his world was not crumbling all around him.

Finally, he licked his lips and answered, "I know. I am only repeating what I saw. What _she_ made me see. But it was so… real." He gave Susan an apologetic look as he added, "I can still remember… everything Susan…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Aslan spoke in a newer, sharper tone. "We need to speak to the rest of the council and formulate a plan."

"What kind of plan? We still don't even know how to stop this!" Peter protested, hating that he sounded just as helpless as he felt. But if anything Silrin had said was true, there simply was no way to stop Jadis' claim to Edmund's life.

"Come, Peter," Lucy said gently. "This is our only chance. It is all we have. We must…" She paused, biting her bottom lip for a moment, before forcing herself to continue, "We need to do this. We don't have any other options."

"This isn't an option," Peter retorted pointedly. "It isn't a plan. It isn't anything but wishes and hopes."

"Peter…"

But the anger had come now, too strong for Peter to keep it at bay. Lucy looked upset again, and the tears had been brimming in her eyes were now leaking out and spilling down her face. Susan's expression was more difficult to read, but Peter was fairly certain there was a mixture of frustration and desperation there. It was Aslan's gaze however, filled with both understanding and a gentle reproach, that made it more difficult for Peter to meet any of their gazes.

"Fine," he said shortly. "Fine."

* * *

The council gathered quietly, somberly, around the table in the room. There was a little bit of excitement as well, anticipation that Aslan's presence would somehow make everything better.

Lucy watched the others, but her gaze was mostly drawn to her brother and sister. It was unusual for either her or Susan to attend any sort of war council as the fighting had been almost entirely left to Peter, and the Gentle queen looked incredibly out of place sitting amidst the soldiers. And Peter, too, looked awkward and uncomfortable, as though this was the last place he wanted to be at the moment.

Aslan took His seat at the head of the table, with Peter to his right. Oreius had joined them as well, returning from his task of burying the dead. Philip was there, so were Shadow, Veltra, and several other of the soldiers. Silrin, the old satyr, sat in a chair at the very back of the room, with Mr. Tumnus hovering behind him.

Lucy frowned at Mr. Tumnus for a moment, memories of their previous argument running through her mind. She had not forgiven him for his part in her brother's distress, and if Edmund did not…

No. She would not think of that, could not think of it. Edmund would not die.

Mr. Tumnus stared back at her, with something in his eyes. Apology?

But she didn't care. How could she, when he had done this to her, to Edmund? This could all have been avoided if…

She sighed, rubbed her eyes with one hand. If they had just told Edmund the truth in the first place. Instead of all the secrets, instead of convincing themselves that their lies had been for the best, that they were only doing what was necessary to spare their brother any pain… Mr. Tumnus was not to be absolved of all of his sins, but neither were they. The fault, the blame… it lay on all their shoulders.

"Our first task will be to find Edmund," Aslan began gravely, letting His dark eyes pass over all those assembled. "After that, however, we will face an even more dangerous task. Separating Edmund from Jadis' influence will be both difficult and risky."

"But is it possible?" It was Silrin who asked the questioned, his old face filled with hope. He was the one who had discovered the terrible demands of the Deep Magic, he was the one who had first told the High King what Jadis would take from them. All his books and all his experience told him that this was not possible, that saving Edmund was simply nothing more than a dream, and Lucy could easily tell that while he wanted to believe Aslan's words, he could not. Not without firm confirmation, not without proof.

Aslan inclined his head. "Perhaps."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Peter's hands clench underneath the table. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing back the reprimand that would have slipped passed her lips. Now was not the time for her to tell Peter to calm down, to think rationally. Nor was it time for Peter to lose his temper in some outburst. She prayed silently that her brother remembered that.

"Forgive me," Silrin continued, "for I do not wish to question Your words. But how? The Deep Magics cannot be undone, nor can they be easily rewritten."

"Does it matter?" came the heavy snarl of a Wolf. Lucy glanced at Veltra, and nearly recoiled in fear and distaste from the fury and bloodlust brimming in his eyes. She shivered, and Veltra continued harshly, "If our first task must be to find and free Edmund, then we must do that! And with all haste."

"Your determination is admirable, Veltra," Aslan growled softly, and Veltra started at the fact that the Great Lion knew his name, "but haste will only make us careless. We must hurry, but not be reckless."

Veltra's lips curled back into a sneer, revealing all his teeth, but nodded slowly, apparently content to follow Aslan's directions.

Lucy continued to stare at the Wolf, only dimly aware that the conversation had turned to the finer part of war. Peter was talking now, and Oreius frequently joined in with comments of his own, but Lucy paid them no attention. She could not tear her gaze away from Veltra's expression. There was something about it that was so…

Wrong.

She did not like Wolves. And maybe she never would. Maybe the past was too hard to forget, maybe the pain and resentment would linger forever. But she had tolerated Veltra. She had tolerated, far more than Peter or Susan, because he had been important to Edmund. And yet, looking at the fire in Veltra's eyes…

He was slowly morphing into the exact type of creature she did not like. He was becoming everything she had ever despised about the few Wolves that had impacted her life.

She was dimly aware that Peter was recounting everything that Jadis had told him in their brief conversation. She heard him slowly, painstakingly, explain the vision, the harsh words Susan had uttered, the fact that the world was ending. She saw Susan flinch and shake her head, drop her gaze. She noted that several of those gathered jumped in with comments of their own, all remarks about how Jadis lied, and nothing she said or did could ever be taken at face value.

She looked over at Aslan. She believed. She really truly believed in Him. She did not have Peter's fury or Susan's despair. Like everyone else, she had her moments of doubt, moments when she wondered if perhaps they hadn't all been abandoned. But the faith had always come back, sometimes through sheer force of will, and in the end, she had always believed.

She knew, better than most, that faith was not something that was simply handed out like party favors. It wasn't easy to come by, it wasn't something that people simply had. It had to be worked for, it had to be earned through trials and tribulations.

But did those trials and tribulations have to cause Edmund so much pain?

She sighed. She believed, and she always would. But that did not make it hurt any less. And it did not make this any easier.

She felt a hand slide into hers, and glanced over at Peter. He was watching her, and she realized the conversation had slipped into details that no longer required his attention.

"Lucy?"

He was worried about her.

She forced a smile. "I'm alright," she whispered back. It was a lie, but what else could she say?

"But we don't even know where to find King Edmund." It was Philip's voice, distressed but determined, that brought both Lucy and Peter's attention back to the council. The Horse was frowning thoughtfully, as though trying to decipher some riddle. "We could try to track the Fell Beast army, but we do not even know for sure that the Bat has gone with the rest of them. He could be anywhere."

This was met with a muttering of disconcerted assent, until Mr. Tumnus spoke up in a diffident voice.

"I am not sure that is true. King Peter knows where Edmund is."

"What do you mean?" Peter demanded crossly. "That I am lying? I told you I don't…"

"Peace, Peter," Aslan interrupted. "I do not believe that his words were an accusation."

"I…" Mr. Tumnus swallowed nervously, obviously realizing that he was not particularly welcome in that particular council. Even Lucy's usually friendly gaze was filled with frustration and annoyance. But he forced himself to meet the stares of the three monarchs as he explained, "In the vision King Peter saw, he said Queen Susan had mentioned that they brought their brother's body back from the Stone Table."

There was a silence while everyone digested those words, then Silrin spoke up, "The Stone Table is powerfully magical. It would make sense that Jadis would use it as a place to perform the ancient rites of the Deep Magics."

Peter frowned, then gaze Mr. Tumnus a slow nod. "Then that is where we will start."

* * *

Peter, Susan, and Lucy find that they must overcome their fears if they hope to rescue their brother, but the final battle between the Fell Beasts and the Narnians still threatens to ruin them all in _Chapter Twenty: Twenty-Four (part one)._


	21. TwentyFour part one

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Peter, Susan, and Lucy find that they must overcome their fears if they hope to rescue their brother, but the final battle between the Fell Beasts and the Narnians still threatens to ruin them all.

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Twenty-Four (part one)

_Twenty-four oceans and twenty-four skies,  
Twenty-four failures and twenty-four tries.  
Twenty-four finds me in twenty-forth place,  
With twenty-four drop outs at the end of the day.  
Life is not what I thought it was,  
Twenty-four hours ago._

_- Switchfoot, "Twenty-Four"_

"I'm coming with you."

Peter turned, surprised, and gave his sister a frown. Lucy had changed from her usual gown into a riding dress, and her hair was pulled back from her face in a loose bun. She had already strapped her dagger, the present from Father Christmas, into a sheath on her belt. Her eyes were filled with determination and defiance, a sure sign that Peter could not win this argument.

But that did not mean he was not going to attempt to reason with her.

"Lucy, this is going to be dangerous. And you… you are not a trained fighter. You cannot…"

Lucy held up one hand, swinging her other Christmas gift, the magical cordial, before her. "You might need my help," she said pointedly, cautiously alluding to the fact that Edmund might not be in one piece when they found him.

Peter shook his head. "You could simply give your cordial to me to hold like you have countless other times," he replied logically, a faint smile pulling at his lips as Lucy's expression wavered.

But she rallied quickly, and said, "No. I'm coming, Peter."

"Lu, I can't focus on saving Edmund if I have to worry about you as well."

But Lucy stuck out her bottom lip stubbornly and answered, "Peter, I can _help_. I know how to fight, I've done it before." She paused, then added, "I can't just sit here and do nothing while both my brothers are in danger."

Peter glanced past her towards the courtyard. The entire army had gathered, Animals and Creatures spilling out into the twisting paths past the gates of the Cair. They all looked grim, but determined, and Peter knew abruptly that the battle today would somehow seal the fate of Narnia. He swallowed, a little nervous, a little anxious, and inwardly absolutely terrified.

He did not want to put Lucy in danger. But what choice did he have?

"Fine," he said at last. His gaze swept those gathered once more, and fell on Philip. The Horse was standing slightly to the side, deep in conversation with Oreius. Whatever the two were saying, it did not appear hopeful, and their countenances had darkened with worry.

Peter sighed. Philip at least was trustworthy and a strong fighter, powerful enough in battle. "Philip," he called out, and the Horse turned towards him, the centaur quickly following suit. "Lucy will be joining the battle. Would you do me the favor of carrying her?"

Philip nodded his head and answered, "I would be honored." He walked forward, his hooves echoing on the stone beneath them. Lucy moved towards him, her eyes lighting up, and Peter turned away from the scene, feeling incredibly nauseous. What if something happened to her?

The sun had reached high enough in the sky to flood the land below with light and heat. Peter glanced towards the water, watching as the reflection of the sun sent long slivers of gold across the blue. His stomach twisted painfully, and he did his best to bite back the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

Aslan appeared.

All eyes turned towards Him as he stepped into view, the sun glinting off His golden coat and mane. He walked towards Peter, His paws making no noise at all.

"Will we win?" Peter asked as Aslan drew near.

The Great Lion shook his head somberly as He answered, "You know I cannot tell you what might come to pass."

"Why?" Peter demanded. But he wasn't really sure what he was actually asking. He knew exactly why Aslan could not tell him what might happen, because no one really knew that anyway. But there were so many other things he did not understand – how did this happen, and where had Aslan been for so long, and why did Edmund have to suffer so much – and his question encompassed all of the thoughts that were currently tearing him apart.

And the worst thought, the question that haunted him, the one to which he was not entirely sure he even wanted to know the answer…

Had Aslan known all along that Edmund was still alive?

But when Aslan spoke, His words were simple, and yet so blunt, "I can only help you if you will let Me."

Peter nodded and slanted a quick look at Lucy. She was speaking to Peter and Oreius. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wishing fervently that everything was somehow easier.

But wishes were pointless, and ones that could never come true were even worse – they were tortuous.

He forced himself to look away from Lucy, to trust that Philip would protect her, and found himself staring across the courtyard at Veltra. The Wolf was sitting back on his hind legs, his snout tipped towards the sky. Peter had not been oblivious to the change that had occurred in Veltra since the battle, and though he tried not to think about it, he could not help but shudder at what he saw in the Wolf.

How many times had the Wolves plagued him? First taking away Edmund and tearing apart his family, then during the battle against Jadis and the subsequent months…

Before Narnia, back in England, Peter had not been able to understand Edmund. He knew the bullies at that awful school had picked on him, eventually turning him from a childish brat into a spiteful person Peter barely recognized. And Peter had simply never been able to comprehend how that could happen, how anyone could take the pain of what was done to them and inflict it on others, knowing full well how much it hurt.

Then he had come here. Narnia. The land was perfect in so many ways. And Aslan was awesome in so many ways. But war… war was vicious in so many ways.

He understood Edmund now.

Aslan moved away, towards Lucy. Peter watched Him go, then drew a long breath, exhausted and anxious. He could not waste his strength and energy questioning Aslan, no matter how much he might want to. Though the frustration and pain of the past few days plagued him still, he had to let it go and focus on the task at hand.

But letting go was never something he was particularly good at. Just as he was not good at letting his siblings put their lives in danger. Yet Edmund was far beyond his reach at the moment, and Lucy was stubbornly refusing to stay behind.

He glanced up at the sky, giving the sun one last, lingering look.

It was time to go.

* * *

Susan had remained behind. Peter and Lucy had gone, along with most of the army, to find Edmund, but Susan had not accompanied them. Peter had told her he needed her to stay here, he was already forced to deal with Lucy coming to battle, he could not handle the possibility of her being their as well. And she had added that she could spend the time in the library, researching Deep Magics.

And so she was sitting alone in the library, several tomes open before her, the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes.

Alone, in the empty silence, unable to force away her own unwelcome thoughts.

She should have gone with her siblings. She should have… Edmund was her brother, too. And she had gone with Lucy to find Aslan, hadn't she? So why was she hanging behind now, refusing to face the truth of the situation?

She was afraid.

Terrified.

She stared down at her dress, made of fine silk and lace, jewels adorning her wrists. She was Queen Susan the Gentle. Not Magnificent, not Valiant. She would never be either of those things, she would never be able to face her fears the way they had.

She did not fight, she did not kill. She'd purposefully harmed another Creature only twice before, and the very idea of war left her trembling with a mixture of fear and loathing. War had taken her father away from and cast them into an unknown future. War had taken Edmund away from them, and nearly killed Peter on more than one occasion.

She was Gentle. She navigated the court with ease, smoothing over disagreements among various Narnians with charm and a smile. Peter provided the protection and Lucy the joy, but it was Susan who offered the comfort and sense of belonging that Narnians so desperately needed after the hundred years of winter imposed on them by the Witch.

But Edmund was in the clutches of the Witch. And Susan was afraid. Afraid that staying here had been the wrong decision, and yet afraid that going after Peter and the army was wrong as well.

She pushed the books away from her and rose to her feet, sweeping out of the library. In the hallway, she paused long enough to notice the silence, the lack of normal bustle that suffused the place when the army was at the Cair, and then headed towards the courtyard.

The sun was high in the sky. She paused, her dress rustling about in the faint wind.

"Your Majesty?"

Susan turned towards the sleek Snow Leopard that approached. "I just need some fresh air," Susan said, running a hand through her hair. "I… I need to think."

The Snow Leopard nodded. "Of course, your Majesty," she said. "Would you like company or prefer to think alone?"

"I…" Company was a tempting offer, someone to distract her from her thoughts. But she also knew that she could not take such an easy excuse. She needed to think, needed to figure out what she was going to do. She had to come to some sort of resolution, needed to find peace of mind so that she could focus on the task of rebuilding the family when Peter and Lucy returned with Edmund.

She refused to even consider the fact that they might not return with Edmund. That they might not return at all.

"I would prefer to be alone. But I thank you for the offer."

"Of course, your Majesty." The Snow Leopard withdrew, sending silent signals to the others in the courtyard that Susan wished to be alone, and the Gentle queen continued walking.

She passed through the gates into the outer courtyard, and then beyond those out of the castle and into land beyond. The sun beat down on her, but she did not pay any attention to it. Peter had trained in this heat before, cloaked in heavy metal armor and wielding a heavy sword and shield at the training grounds. It was hot, but she could bear it.

Suddenly, she wanted to go after the army. The desire was so abruptly forceful that she almost started crying at the thought that she had missed her chance. They were long gone, and she could not catch up with them now. But how could she just sit her and wait while her entire family rushed into danger?

It was hard to fight. But, she and Lucy had learned another lesson every time Peter lead the army off to face another foe. It was not easy to be the ones left behind either.

"Is there somewhere you wished to go, dear one?"

Susan whipped around at the sound of Aslan's low voice. She stared at the Lion, mouth hanging open in shock. "I… You… I thought You went with Peter…" she managed at last.

He smiled. "I did. But I thought perhaps I was needed here as well. I will catch up with your brother later."

"Oh, Aslan…" Susan breathed, unable to think of what to say. "I am frightened," she murmured finally.

"I know, child."

"I wanted to go with them, with Peter. But… I am frightened. I am not a fighter, a soldier. I am useless in a battle. And yet… I feel so useless here. So helpless. And I _want_ to help. I am just so… weak."

Aslan came closer, His brown eyes both fierce and gentle. "Susan, you are _not_ a fighter, that much is true. You have other gifts that Narnia needs. But there are rare occasions when extraordinary times demand us to perform extraordinary actions. You may not be a fighter, but no one ever doubted your bravery."

Susan chewed her bottom lip nervously. "Do you think I should have gone with them?"

"What you should have done is no longer relevant," Aslan countered. "All that matters is what you choose to do now."

"I am frightened," Susan repeated. "What if I make the wrong choice?"

Aslan did not reply, and Susan knew this was a decision she had to make on her own. She could not pray for any form of divine inspiration to provide her with answers.

"But I could not catch up with Peter now," Susan said after a moment of contemplation.

"I can take you there, Daughter of Eve. If you wish to go."

The words, though gentle and compassionate, did not provide Susan with any sense of comfort. She was truly on her own now, even though Aslan was standing right before her. She needed to make a decision, needed to choose her own path, and she had to do it all on her own. She could not rely on Aslan to help her until she made a decision, until she was ready help herself.

She could stay. As Aslan had confirmed, she was not a fighter. It would not be wrong, per se. There were many other things she could do to help from here. And war brought about so many horrible changes in people and Animals. She had seen those changes in Peter, and to a lesser extent in Lucy. She had seen them, terrifyingly vivid, in Veltra. She knew from personal experience that taking lives was not easy, that it could never be undone, and that the consequences would follow her forever.

She did not like war. It was a simple, almost trite thought, but it was so incredibly true. She _detested_ war.

But she had left the library. She had come out into the courtyard, and further out of the Cair itself. Why? If she had not at least wanted to subconsciously go after Peter and Lucy, why would she have left?

Unsure if she was making the right decision, but knowing she had to make _some_ decision and this was the best she would be able to settle on, she turned to Aslan once more and said, "I would like to go after Peter. But I need my bow and arrows." She glanced down at her fancy dress. "And to change."

"Make haste, child," Aslan advised. "Time is one thing we do not have."

* * *

Lucy held tightly to Philip's mane, her small fingers clutching to the long strands of hair. The army was moving swiftly, nearly racing over the ground, and she felt unsettled by the rocking motion. All around them, the trees swayed in the wind, some snatching at them in an attempt to prevent their progress, others moving out of the way as though to let them travel faster.

She was terrified.

She did not want to admit it aloud, did not want to burden anyone with that knowledge, but she was truly frightened of what might happen. The fear was not just for herself or her two brothers, but for all of Narnia.

Valiant, they called her. And yet the valor seemed to fade, draining from her as she thought of what lay ahead. She slid her hand to the cordial at her waist and prayed that there would be no need for it. But she had the strangest sensation that her prayers would go unanswered, that someone would come close to death before this was over.

The waiting, she reflected as Philip's lurching motion made her wince in discomfort, was the worst part of it. It was a long way to the Stone Table, and no matter how quickly they travelled, she knew it was still not fast enough. Edmund was already there, as was the Bat and the rest of the Fell Beast army. Would they arrive in time, or would it be too late…

No.

She forced the thought away, refusing to even contemplate the idea. It was too much, and she just… if Edmund was dead…

She wouldn't be able to live with it. They had lost him once, they would not survive losing him again.

Time passed, although she lost sense of it. The forest fell away into plains, long stretches of monotony broken only by the occasional outcropping of rocks amidst the tufted grass. It could have been forever, or maybe only a few minutes, and then the land sloped upwards and trees appeared once more. And then, with a cry of fury and fear, Peter was charging ahead, and Lucy watched as they crashed through the last of the underbrush and emerged at the Stone Table.

The scene before her made her cringe with a inexplicable fear and disgust. The Fell Beasts had all lined up in rows before the Stone Table, separating themselves down the middle to form a single path. Edmund's body lay on the Table, still and unmoving, and standing over him was the Bat, wings outstretched as though in some strange sort of ritual. Several Harpies were screeching indecipherable words to the sky, and a single Minotaur stood at the front of the assembled Creatures, a long silver knife held in his hands.

It was some sort of ceremony, that much Lucy could tell. It was barbaric, animalistic, savage. But it was also powerful, and the air around them seemed to actually hum with a strange sort of magic.

As one, the Fell Beasts turned in surprise to find the Narnian army breaking into their ranks, and the ceremony was quickly forgotten in the instinctual need to survive. A battle broke out, and Lucy slid from Philip's back and landed easily on her feet, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand.

There was no time to think. Lucy was moving without comprehending what she was doing, slicing her dagger back and forth without much understanding for movements. Creatures fell about her, stained with blood, and sweat mattered her hair. But she saw none of it, and instead pushed forward, towards Edmund.

He was so still. His body was sprawled awkwardly across the stone slab, and his eyes were shut tight against the light of the day. As Lucy drew nearer, she saw the Bat rise up into the air and dive towards Edmund, obviously intent on taking its prey far away from the fighting.

Lucy reacted instantly, the dagger leaving her hand and flying through the air with unmistakable accuracy. The Bat gave a frenzied cry and fell heavily to the stone, collapsing over Edmund, the hilt of Lucy's dagger protruding from its chest.

She scrambled to the Table, dimly aware of hoof-beats behind her. Philip, she knew, would not leave her alone, not now that the Horse had been entrusted with her life, and she felt just a little bit safer.

She knelt beside Edmund, brushing the hair out of his face. He was breathing unsteadily, his chest rising and falling with an uneven rhythm. His face was pale, gray, his lips devoid of all color. But it was the pain in his expression, the unbearable agony, that tore at Lucy's heart.

She reached for her cordial, wondering if it would wake him. Did it work on wounds that were not made of flesh and blood?

"Your Majesty! Look out!"

Philip's cry of warning came just in time to force her out of the way of the attack, she rolled sideways, ducking her head as a spear passed through the air above her and clattered harmlessly off the stone. She lifted her eyes the hulking figure of the Minotaur that stood above her. He was wearing an expression of grim triumph, and though his spear had missed his target, he reached for the club tied to his waste and advanced on her, ready to kill.

Lucy caught sight of Peter, who had turned in alarm at Philip's cry. He opened his mouth to call out something, an order to the soldiers to come to Lucy's aid most likely, but he need not have worried. Before the words had even left his lips, several of the archers who remained at the outskirts of the battle had let loose a volley of arrows, and the Minotaur fell before he could even begin another attack on the young Queen.

The slain Bat still lay partially on top of her brother, and Lucy angrily shoved the Animal away, freeing Edmund's trapped legs. Philip stood over her, protective and worried, a look of fierce loyalty in his eyes.

"We need to get him away from here," Lucy said breathlessly, fear gripping tightly around her heart.

"_I'll still find him."_

Lucy froze, hand outstretched towards Edmund, hovering in midair above his chest. Though Peter, Susan, and Edmund had all witnessed the strange and almost unexplainable rise of the Witch's phantom, Lucy had yet to see Jadis standing before her, looking so alive, so vividly real. So powerful.

But there she was, a few feet behind Edmund, smirking down at the two siblings with a look both victorious and disdainful.

"You are not real," Lucy said firmly, tearfully. "You are not real!"

"_Such a pointless refrain, child. Your brother says the same. He thinks that by repeating those words he will somehow make them true. But I am real."_

"You cannot hurt me," Lucy whispered.

"_I already have."_

Lucy looked down at Edmund's still form, praying to Aslan that he would wake soon. She did not know what magic held him firmly trapped in his subconscious, but she could tell from the way his eyes were clenched tightly as his face twisted in pain that whatever he was experiencing was not pleasant.

Jadis was right. She had already succeeded in hurting them. More than once.

"_So why do you still fight, little Queen? There is no one here to stop me. You cannot win."_

Lucy glanced around, trying to find Aslan. He had left Cair Paravel with them, but at some point during their race to the Stone Table, He had seemingly faded away. She had not questioned it at the time, too caught up in her worries about Edmund and satisfied by her own faithful belief that He was doing what was best, that He was somehow helping them.

But now His absence was frightening. They needed Him. How else could they defeat the Witch?

The Valiant Queen looked at Jadis again and said with more bravery than she felt, "You might have found a way to cheat death, but you have no power in the physical world. I can take Edmund now, and you would not be able to stop me."

"_No, but she could."_

Jadis' words were just enough of a warning for Lucy to turn, once again, and stare in horror at the Hag that approached her, wearing an expression of triumph. The Hag's eyes, an unearthly yellow, fixed on Lucy as a thin silver dagger appeared clenched in long fingers.

Lucy scrambled to her feet and yanked her dagger from the Bat's chest. Spinning once more, she faced the approaching Hag, Philip coming to her side.

But before Lucy or Philip could act, the Hag gave a screech, the noise coming to a gurgling halt in the base of her throat as she fell face-forward on the Stone Table, a familiar red-tufted arrow protruding from her back.

Lucy lifted her gaze to see Susan, riding on Aslan's back, appear at the edge of the clearing, her bow clutched tightly in her hands.

* * *

Aslan's appearance turns the tide against the Fell Beasts, but the battle of wills between Edmund and Jadis becomes deadly and the Deep Magic finally claims its victims in _Chapter Twenty-One: Twenty-Four (part two)_.


	22. TwentyFour part two

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Aslan's appearance turns the tide against the Fell Beasts, but the battle of wills between Edmund and Jadis becomes deadly and the Deep Magic finally claims its victims.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Twenty-Four (part two)

_Life is not what I thought it was,  
Twenty-four hours ago.  
Still I'm singing, 'Spirit take me up in arms with You.'  
And I'm not who I thought I was,  
Twenty-four hours ago._

_-Switchfoot, "Twenty-Four"_

The pain was beyond anything Edmund had ever experienced.

He'd been injured before. And he knew he must have been badly hurt when he had fallen from the ice wall into the ravine where Veltra had found him after his escape from Jadis. But those pains did not even begin to compare to the feeling that had now wrapped itself so tightly around his chest.

"You cannot make me do this," Edmund whispered, lifting gray eyes towards the White Witch.

She stood before him, the same smirk on her face, the same triumph in her eyes. The dream-land they inhabited had reverted to the familiar expanse of white, the blanket of snow covering Narnia, trapping the land forever in winter.

Jadis replied, "Yes, I can."

"No. No, you can't! The Deep Magic…"

"Child, do not quote the Deep Magic to me," she interrupted harshly. "I know them far better than you ever could."

Edmund was still on his knees, his hands pressed into the wet snow. He shivered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. The very idea that his actions could result in Peter, Susan, and Lucy turning to stone…

No. He forced the thought away, clinging instead to the knowledge that this travesty had not yet come to pass. Whatever Jadis wanted from him, he would not give it. Not now, not ever, no so long as it was in his control to withhold.

But what if she was right? What if he could not hold off the Deep Magics?

Jadis knelt before him, placing her hand over his heart. He tried to draw back from her touch, but found that he could not. Something held him in place – perhaps fear or anxiety.

Her fingertips pressed into his skin, and there was a sudden flaring of pain, a cold that twisted in his chest, settling like ice over his heart. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He lowered his eyes, searching in vain for a way to escape.

"Don't," Jadis said sharply, lifting her wand and pointing it at him. He flinched, expecting to be turned to stone, but instead felt the edge of the wand pushed under his chin, lifting his face up to meet her steady gaze. "You cannot fight me. Let it go, let your stubbornness fade. You are on my side now."

"I am not," Edmund snarled.

She dropped the wand onto the soft blanket of snow at her side and reached up, her fingers curling around his hair. With a fierce twist of her wrist, she pulled Edmund's head back, eliciting a groan of pain from him.

"You try my patience."

"Wh-what are you doing to me?" Edmund breathed as ice began to seep into his veins.

"You are right," Jadis said softly, "that you are my link. As long as you are alive, I retain my power." She bent her fingers, her nails biting into his chest, and he winced, trying to pull back. "I am taking your soul, making it mine," she finished.

"You can't…"

"Oh, but I can," Jadis replied cruelly. "You are a traitor. And your blood belongs to me. But there is more than that. You joined me once, Son of Adam. You drank my potion and ate my Turkish Delight. My magic twisted around your heart, and it won't let go."

She dropped both hands to her side and stared at him for a moment, and no matter how hard Edmund tried, he could not turn his gaze away from her face.

"There are far more Deep Magics than you truly understand, little king," Jadis sneered. "Rules and laws that you cannot comprehend. But they dictate your life all the same. And right now, they put _your_ heart and _your_ soul in _my_ hands."

"I will stop you…" Edmund forced the words from his mouth, gasping as he did so.

"You can't," Jadis replied. "Because the only way to break my control over you is to end our link. You would have to die, to spill your blood onto the Stone Table. The Deep Magic will be fulfilled, and all other ties will be null and void."

"Then I will die."

Jadis laughed, her eyes narrowing slightly with a malicious gleam. "You cannot," she mocked. "You are trapped in your mind. You are in my control now, and I will not let you die. Once I have full control of your soul, you will venture back into the realm of those awake, but you will still be mine. And I won't let you die."

She paused, a slight frown appearing on her features, and glanced around the snow-carpeted land. The land seemed to shift, to change, and suddenly they were at the Stone Table. They were surrounded by a cacophony of noise as Fell Beasts clashed heavily with the Narnian army.

And then, Edmund noticed with a confused jolt, that he was staring at his own body. He was sprawled across the slab of stone, Lucy leaning over him with a look of fear on her face. Philip stood behind her, and Susan and Aslan were only a few meters away, Susan clutching tightly to her bow. Edmund tore his gaze away from the odd tableau and searched the soldiers until he located both Peter and Veltra, each fighting with a furious passion.

The scene was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, and the land was once more covered with ice and snow.

"We're here," Jadis said with satisfaction. "Your body is at the Stone Table. I can proceed."

"I don't understand," Edmund said softly, still bewildered by what he had just seen.

She reached up and ran her fingers across his cheeks, each hand resting for a moment on his temples. "Let me show you the future. Your future." She paused, a wicked smirk tugging at her lips as she amended, "_Our_ future."

The pressure of her fingers against his skin increased, and the world faded, everything turning into darkness all around him.

"_Edmund? What… what are you doing?" Susan asked in a shaky voice as she backed away from her younger brother._

_Edmund walked forward, unable to stop his steps. He held a scepter in his hand, a replica of the White Witch's wand. He opened his mouth and against his will, cold and callous words leaked out._

"_I'm taking back what is mine, Susan. I am the King. I am the ruler, there is only room for one. You, Peter, Lucy… you do not belong."_

"_Ed? What happened to you? Where did you get that wand?" Susan whispered, but the fear and horror in her eyes was enough to indicate that she knew, or at least suspected, what had happened to her brother. _

_Edmund smiled, a cruel smile. "It was a gift," he answered. He looked past Susan towards the door of the room, watching as several Creatures entered. Remnants of the army of Fell Beasts. They moved quickly, almost silently, gliding over the ground until they had surrounded the Gentle Queen and her brother._

"_Edmund… please… don't do this…" Susan begged._

_Edmund turned his back on her and did not even bother watching as the Beasts seized her, tightening their grip on her arms until she cried out in pain. They dragged her from the room, and no matter how she cried and begged, Edmund did not turn back._

_Once she was gone, silence fell over the room._

_Edmund turned and looked at the mirror. Instead of his reflection, he saw Jadis looking back._

"_This is not what I wanted," Edmund spat, taking a few steps towards the mirror. "I never… stop it! Stop using me."_

"_Oh, stop your petulant whining," Jadis said with a sigh, rolling her eyes at him. "It will get you nowhere. You will be far happier if you just give in to the inevitable. You cannot fight me. You most certainly cannot win."_

"_You made me send Susan to prison!"_

_Jadis shrugged. "I let you spare her, didn't I? I let you refrain from giving her the same fates your brother and younger sister received."_

_Edmund flinched and shivered as the image of Peter, his expression filled with tortuous hope and uncontrolled fear, forever frozen in stone. And Lucy, who had not cried or begged as she was slaughtered, but had simply stared at Edmund with love and disappointment in her eyes._

"_I must admit, I had originally intended for them all to turn to stone. But I can let Susan live. With your dear brother now a statue, and your younger sister lifeless, the prophecy has been finally, irrevocably broken. I don't need her dead… and a lifetime of suffering does bring me great pleasure."_

"_Isn't my suffering enough?" Edmund demanded, lunging forward and smashing his fist into the mirror. It shattered, shards of glass littering the floor. The image of Jadis faded, leaving the destroyed mirror, but her laughter lingered in the room, reverberating from the ceiling and the walls._

"_Foolish child. Did you think breaking a mirror would bring you any release from the pain?"_

_Edmund bit his lip and glanced down at his hand. Some of the glass had sliced through his skin, leaving a few thin wounds behind. Droplets of blood appeared, standing out starkly against his white skin._

"_I'm sorry, Susan," he whispered. Life was not an easier punishment for her. She would have the next several decades to spend in emotional agony, to question over and over if there was something she could have done differently, something that could have saved her family._

_It was the same fate that Edmund would endure as well._

Edmund opened his eyes and discovered that he had fallen face-forward onto the snow. He rolled over and stared up at the sky. Jadis had risen to her feet and moved away from him, but her shadow still fell over his face.

"That won't happen," he said, trying to push himself into a sitting position. He sunk further into the snow, and the wet cold seeped into his bones, freezing him. "You cannot tell me what might happen. You don't know the future."

"Your future is in my hands," Jadis answered. She moved her wand from hand to hand, staring at it with a contemplative smile. "And I decide how it plays out."

Edmund staggered to his feet. "You won't get to turn Peter into stone. You won't kill Lucy or imprison Susan!"

She raised her eyebrows and answered with a pointed, ironic smile, "No, I won't. _You_ will do it."

In a blind rage, Edmund acted without thinking, lunging forward and slapping her across the face. Her head snapped back, her lip splitting. Shock momentarily appeared on her features, and she lifted one hand to touch her mouth.

"You haven't gotten my soul yet!" Edmund snarled. "I don't care what you say, I don't care what the Deep Magic says! You cannot have my soul! You cannot do this to my family."

She retaliated without pause, backhanding him. "Foolish," she sneered. "So naïve."

He stumbled, but did not fall. Instead, he reached forward, his hands wrapping around the handle of the White Witch's wand. She had clearly not expected that, and her grip on the wand faltered slightly, enough for him to forcefully wrench it from her hands.

"You will not harm my siblings! You will not turn Peter to stone!"

He spun on his heels and lifted the wand above his head. With an indecipherable shriek of pent-up emotion, he brought the wand down, forcefully swinging it through the air and smashing it on the outcropping of rocks nearby. The wand shattered with a brilliant flash of white light, its magic releasing into the air.

"No!" Jadis cried furiously, springing forward and snatching Edmund's wrist. Too late, she could not save her wand. "You little…" Apoplectic with rage, her words turned incomprehensible. No longer was she the same smug, mocking, triumphant woman. That one act of Edmund's had been enough to shake her confidence.

The broken wand fell from Edmund's grasp. He hissed in pain as she twisted his wrist, but the hatred in his eyes did not dim. "I will kill you!" he spat, yanking himself from her grip and shoving himself into her, trying to knock her to the ground.

"Fool!" Jadis said again, pushing him to the ground.

He kicked out with both feet, catching her in the shins. She stumbled and fell, her fur-lined coat slipping from her shoulders. Scrambling to her side, he reached out and grabbed the small silver dagger that was strapped to her waist.

Jadis twisted out of the way as he slashed the dagger through the air. She caught his arm and threw him off balance. He flipped back into the outcropping of the stone, striking his head against the rock. Ache swelled behind his eyes and he had to blink rapidly to keep his vision from darkening.

To his right, he saw the ruined wand, the jagged, broken end facing towards him.

The dagger was still clenched in his hand.

Jadis was at his side, her eyes sparkling with wrath as she reached towards the dagger. He stabbed at her, a vague, disconnected movement that he knew could not possibly contain enough force to harm her, but he hoped would still push her back enough for him to regain his breath.

She was right above him, knocking the dagger away from her. For a moment, they grappled, and somehow the dagger slipped from Edmund's grasp, clattering against the stone. They twisted and turned, falling against the stone, and though Edmund could not ever be entirely sure what had happened, a moment later he had been rolled over, slamming forward into the dagger's upturned blade.

Edmund screamed in pain, his entire body going rigid as the dagger tore into his flesh. Blood spilled from his stomach, covering the white snow in a layer of red, and his vision blurred and grew fuzzy. The physical pain only grew as it mixed with the emotional and mental aguish, the thought that he would never again see his siblings or Sera and Dar and Nasada ever again. He had failed, because even now it was not enough, _he_ was not enough, to save Narnia. Everything hurt, so much, almost too much to bear…

…_strength, dear one…_

The words, calm and gentle, rushed over him, and though the throbbing ache did not recede, though the fear did not diminish in anyway, Edmund was able to find some sense of… of _something_ that he could not quite explain.

Through the haze of pain, he just barely managed to see the White Witch step back from him, a look of disbelief and horror in her eyes. Then, pulling together the last bit of energy and strength he could find, he flung out one hand to grasp the broken wand, lunged forward, and drove the jagged edge into her chest.

There was a flash of white, a sudden explosion of nothingness, of silence so loud it threatened to burst his eardrums…

And the pain intensified as he fell to his knees, fear and panic and hatred and anger and a million other emotions flooding through his veins.

The world faded to dark all around him as he murmured tiredly, "I don't want to die."

* * *

Peter felt both anger and fear at the sight of his sister, although at least Aslan was with her. But the idea that he would now have to worry about both his sisters in the midst of the battle…

But Philip was watching over Lucy and Aslan stood by Susan, and for now that had to be enough. The battle raged all around him, and he sliced his sword in an arc through the air, focused on keeping himself alive long enough to make it to his brother's body.

It took several minutes, his path was continually interrupted by other Fell Beasts wishing to fight him. But nothing could stop him, nothing could prevent him from reaching Edmund's side. Susan had already made it to Edmund, and she was kneeling at his side, her hands running over his body, frantically checking for signs of life. Lucy stood behind her, her gaze switching back and forth between the fighting all around them and her pale and still brother.

"Philip, join the battle," Peter ordered, his sword held tightly before him. He stepped to the place where the Horse had been and took his guard over his siblings.

Edmund suddenly jolted, twisting on the stone slab, letting out a low moan as he curled into the fetal position. His arms lifted, his hands coming in front of his face.

"Is he waking?" Peter demanded.

Susan tried to pry Edmund's hands away from his face, but found she could not. "Ed?" she whispered. "Ed, are you… can you hear me? Ed, it's Susan. You're safe."

Edmund's body relaxed, and Susan gently pulled his arms away so that she could see his face. He skin was icy cold and covered in a thin film of sweat.

"Don't try to move, Ed," Susan murmured, even though she doubted that he could hear her. "You're safe now, but you might have been injured. Don't move if it is too painful. Do you understand?"

"The battle still rages, Peter," Aslan spoke, His voice drawing Peter away from his silent vigil over Edmund. The High King looked up, darkening eyes turning towards the Great Lion even as the battle grew in intensity all around.

"I… I cannot leave Edmund…" Peter whispered.

"But I can," Aslan replied in a low growl.

And Peter understood what Aslan was offering. The Great Lion could stay and watch over Edmund, protect him from harm, or He could join the battle and protect the Narnians, chase away the Fell Beasts. His brother or his land…? It was not a fair question to ask, it was not fair to demand that he make such a decision, and yet…

Life was not fair.

But even more than that, was there anything Aslan could do for Edmund? After all, He had already said that this was a battle Edmund had to fight… and wasn't that what Silrin and Oreius had told them as well? If there was nothing Aslan could do for Edmund, how could Peter possibly ask Him to stay?

In a choked whisper, he answered, "Help the soldiers… please."

Aslan nodded, and Peter thought he might have seen a hint of a smile in His fearsome features. The Great Lion bent His head over Edmund's body and whispered, "Strength, dear one." Then He sprung forward, leaping over the four siblings and charging into the battle, and the Fell Beasts scattered before His ferocious roar.

Susan watched Aslan for a moment, then looked down at Edmund. She carefully tried to roll him onto his back but he protested, groaning against her ministrations. It was then that her hands brushed over his stomach and he flinched in pain.

He pulled his knees closer to his chest, and his mouth opened, though no words came out. His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment hazy gray orbs focused on her face before the lids shut once more.

"I think he's waking," Susan murmured, and Lucy and Peter both edged closer towards her.

Peter chanced a glance towards the battle and saw his soldiers regrouping behind Oreius and Philip, creating formations as they easily took the upper hand. With Aslan by their side, it was no wonder the Narnians could so easily overpower the Fell Beasts.

Then Susan's gasp brought his attention back to his family.

"Edmund…" Susan whispered, horrified, as she drew her hands away from his chest. "Oh… what has happened to you? What magic is this?"

Peter and Lucy were instantly pushing past her, having heard her anguished words. Lucy stifled a gasp of terror at the sight before her eyes, and Peter thought he might get sick.

Edmund's shirt had been torn open, revealing a gaping wound in his stomach. Blood pooled along his clothes, his life-force slowly draining from his body. His eyes blinked vaguely as he awoke into unbearable pain, and still he tried to move despite Susan's earlier words of caution. His lips, so pale, parted with a groan of agony, and his expression seemed to cloud over, to grow foggy as death seeped into his body.

Beneath him, the blood dripped from his clothing and spilled out across the Stone Table.

* * *

The Fell Beast army flees, but the victory brings little comfort to Peter, Susan, or Lucy in _Chapter Twenty-Two: Tears in Heaven_.


	23. Tears In Heaven

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So many people thought I might actually kill off Edmund! But don't worry, this story will have a happy ending, I promise. It just might take a little while to get there.

Summary: The Fell Beast army flees, but the victory brings little comfort to Peter, Susan, or Lucy.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Tears In Heaven

_Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees.  
Time can break your heart, have you begging please.  
Beyond the door, there's peace, I'm sure.  
And I know there'll be no more  
Tears in heaven._

_-Eric Clapton, "Tears in Heaven"_

The Stone Table was silent.

Peter was far too lost in his own horrified thoughts to realize what that silence meant, and so he did not even noticed that the Fell Beast army had fled, nor did it occur to him to determine if his own soldiers had given chase. The silence fell over them all, but it did not matter, none of it mattered.

Edmund, so pale, so lifeless, lay before him, deep red blood contrasting sharply against ghostly white skin.

A movement did catch his eye, however, and he turned in wonder to watch as Lucy, with shaking fingers and a hopeful expression, withdrew her small vial of cordial from the folds of her dress.

Susan, who had been pointlessly attempting to stop the bleeding, turned to Lucy with rapid movements. "Hurry!" she cried when she saw the vial, her eyes lighting up. "He hasn't got much time."

Peter watched in trepidation as Lucy uncorked the bottle and leaned forward, past Susan's ministering fingers to Edmund's partially open mouth. Ever so carefully, she tilted the vial to the side and watched as a few drops of the precious liquid slid in between Edmund's lips.

Time seemed to stop.

The cordial was supposed to work instantaneously, but Peter felt as though he knelt on the cold Stone Table for an eternity, waiting for the flickering of eyelids or the subtle rise of a chest that would indicate Edmund's recovery. His heart beat frantically in his chest and his breath came in short gasps as he waited… and waited… and waited…

But time refused to move forward. He was stuck in that moment, caught in the suspension between past and future, forever trapped in a moment of torment and agony.

Why wasn't it working?

He wanted to scream, wanted to shout, wanted to demand answers. He wanted to know…

There!

Fingers twitching. Eyebrows scrunching together slightly. A stiff rise of the chest.

A groan.

Time started moving forward again.

And two gray eyes wearily opened, the fog of death fading to be replaced by vivid clarity.

Peter was suddenly too giddy to even think. The relief flooded through him, relief that slowly eased the adrenaline from his veins and reminded him of just how exhausted and nervous he really was. His body practically melted underneath him, and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing right there as the tidal wave of emotions came crashing down on his shoulders.

Edmund was alive.

Alive.

Never had the world seemed a brighter, better place.

Edmund was struggling to sit up, a wary expression in his eyes. The obvious bewilderment that had plagued him a moment before was now replaced by suspicion, and his gaze moved past Peter and over Susan and Lucy, as though he was looking for something.

Or someone.

But Jadis wasn't there. Wherever she was, she wasn't there. Peter could no longer feel her presence, could not longer sense the bitter ice that clung to the air whenever she was near. Perhaps she had fled with her army, or perhaps something else had taken her away. He did not know, and he did not care. Whatever Edmund had endured in his own mind was gone now, he had woken up from the nightmares, and for Peter, that was all that mattered.

"Edmund…" Lucy breathed, and flung herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him tightly into an embrace.

Susan reached out tentatively, as though she was afraid Edmund might fade if she tried to touch him again. Peter watched in silence as she gently rested her hand on his shoulder, her fingers grazing his neck. Edmund turned to look at her, and she offered a shaky smile, fear mingled with relief in her eyes.

"Praise Aslan," Susan murmured.

Edmund smiled, more of a grimace than anything else, and cleared his throat. He licked his chapped lips, and glanced over at Peter, and their eyes met.

_Thank Aslan you're okay_, Peter thought. There were so many other things he wanted to say, so many emotions competing to come tumbling out. _I'm sorry I let this happen to you, Ed, I'm so sorry for everything_. He wasn't sure if Edmund would understand what the apology was for, he didn't really know himself what all his guilt encompassed. Only that it twisted in his stomach, sharp like a knife. _Don't ever leave me. I can't do this again. Why did you have to go after the Fell Beasts? Why couldn't you have stayed at the Cair where you were safe? Don't you know what your death would have done to us?_

But when he opened his mouth, all he could manage to say was a choked, "Don't you ever do as your told?"

Edmund didn't answer right away, and when he spoke, there was something in his tone that Peter could not identify.

"I suppose not," the younger brother answered, his voice scratchy and sore.

"The Witch… Jadis… what did she do to you?" Susan asked as she leaned forward, helping Edmund to sit up fully. Her hands ran subtly over his chest, searching for any remnants of a wound.

Edmund shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's over. She's gone."

"She could come back," Lucy whispered, glancing about furtively.

Peter stifled a smile at her actions, noting the way she lowered her voice as though afraid uttering Jadis' name would bring the White Witch back sooner.

"No," Edmund muttered. "No… she's gone. Completely." He looked down at the stone beneath him, and Peter followed his gaze to see the pool of red blood that slowly spread out in a circle. "The Deep Magics gave her a claim to my blood. And my blood has been spilt upon the Stone Table. All other claims are null and void. Her link to this world is over. She's… she's gone."

His voice was devoid of emotion, and for a moment Peter thought perhaps it was just exhaustion. But then he took a moment to study Edmund's face, to really scrutinize it. There were dark circles under his eyes and a faint gray pallor along his cheeks, both hallmark signs of fatigue. But there was something else, something lingering behind the shuttered eyes, something that worried Peter.

"Truly?" Susan asked, eyes shining with hope. "But you… you did not die…?"

"He came close enough," Peter muttered, eyes on the cordial still clutched in Lucy's hand. "Blood was spilt a life was nearly lost. If Jadis is gone…" He shrugged and met Susan's gaze. "Good riddance." Susan did not look convinced, and Peter suggested, "We will ask Silrin when we return to the Cair. He can tell us what exactly this all means."

Edmund tried to stand, wobbling slightly on both feet and flinging his arms out to hold his balance. Susan quickly rose to her feet beside him and offered him support, which he took gratefully. Lucy and Peter followed suit, and it was then that Peter realized they were alone, save for Philip who stood to the side, giving them some privacy, and Shadow, who slunk back and forth across the grass near the edge of the clearing, eyes constantly scanning for enemies.

"The battle is over," he murmured.

"Yes," Susan said, giving Edmund's arm a light squeeze. "Yes, it is."

Edmund ran his fingers through his hair and took a shaky breath. His clothing was still covered in blood, and his arms and hands were smudged with dirt. His disheveled appearance was only amplified by the lack of color in his face.

But there was something else…

It took Peter a moment to realize what it was. But then, as Edmund turned to look out at the clearing, his eyes landing first on Philip, then moving to Shadow, before coming back to the Stone Table beneath their feet, Peter saw it. The flicker of sullen annoyance, the gaze lowered in frustration and hurt, the defiance simmering below the surface… And all of this, held back behind a mask of indifference that only the most perceptive could penetrate.

The Edmund whom Peter had stumbled across in the mountains beyond the Western Wood did not keep secrets like this. His face was an open book, his emotions easily accessible at a glance. He wore his heart on his sleeve, unafraid to show the world what he thought or felt.

The Edmund standing before him now… this was a different Edmund. This was the Edmund that Peter had grown up with outside of Narnia. This was the Edmund that Peter had lost to the White Witch when they first entered the magical land. This was _his_ Edmund.

And that meant…

"You remember," Peter breathed in awe. It was not a question, it was a statement of fact. Edmund's memory had returned.

His younger brother turned to look at him, expression unreadable. Then, in an almost regretful tone, he said softly, quietly, "I do. I saw… I remember."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he knew what to say in response to that. It should have made him happy, should have made them both happy. The invisible barricade that had stood between his brother and the rest of the family, the blocks that had kept them from being able to really connect, had crumbled.

Except… Edmund didn't look happy.

Peter and Susan exchanged a quick glance, and Peter felt the unease grow. Susan looked just as lost as he felt.

"Ed..." Peter started, then stopped. Edmund just looked at him, and finally the High King asked worriedly, "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Fine," Edmund said shortly, and Peter knew he was lying.

"I... I love you," Peter whispered.

Edmund started, then nodded and said, "I love you, too." And that, Peter could tell, was the truth.

But still... there was something wrong with his little brother. And he didn't know what it was.

"We should go back to the Cair," Peter heard himself saying automatically even as his thoughts grew more bewildered and troubled. "Come on, Ed. Let's go home."

Edmund nodded and, still leaning against Susan, silently followed his brother from the Stone Table.

* * *

Veltra had never felt such rage.

It boiled in his veins, pumping into every cell of his body. It twisted itself around his steadily beating heart and filled in the space within his lungs. It burned dark red before his eyes, turning everything into a simmering fire, and left behind burnt ash.

Edmund and his siblings had long since left the Stone Table, but his scent lingered in the air.

Slowly, in a daze, Veltra walked towards the Stone Table, his paws padding quietly on the shredded and scuffed ground beneath him. The signs of the battle could be seen everywhere, in the torn grass and upturned clumps of dirt, in the sword-stroke slashes on the surrounding tress, in the pool of dark red blood that seeped across the smooth surface of the stone.

Edmund's blood.

He'd been the one to find Edmund at the base of the ice cliff, been the one to bring him back to the Village. He'd accompanied Edmund when he first learned to track Animals through the snow-covered mountains, and sat by his side when the howling winds trapped them all within their huts. He'd rescued him from snow drifts and mini-avalanches, and from falling through thin ice on the not-quite-frozen pond.

And he'd promised Sera he would protect the boy while he faced yet another challenge in this foreign place with these siblings he did not remember. He'd sworn to Sera that he would look after Edmund while he struggled to find his way to his rightful throne.

He'd failed.

"Edmund is alive, Veltra," came Oreius' voice.

The Wolf turned and watched as the centaur drew near. The other soldiers mingled about in the clearing, speaking in hushed tones as they tended to their wounded brethren, but Veltra focused only on the General.

"I know," he answered. The tale of the young king's miraculous recovering had swept through the soldiers, offering a mixture of hope and relief to all those who feared for their beloved monarchs. For Veltra, the news had never been so welcome, nor had it ever filled him so much fury, as it did when he heard of all that Edmund had endured.

The blood had reached the edge of the Stone Table and slid down along the sides towards the grass below. Little rivulets of red making tracks against the pale gray.

"Come," Oreius said grimly, firmly. "Let us return to the Cair."

Veltra hesitated, still staring at the blood. It swam before his eyes, mocking him and his futile attempts to prevent this. He had tried so hard… they had all tried to save the young king. But in the end, only Edmund had been able to save himself… with the help of Lucy's cordial, of course.

He almost wished Jadis was alive and well and standing before him. He would have taken great pleasure in ripping out her throat.

He was not this Wolf. He had never been violent, never harbored such thoughts. But he also had never felt so anger, such hatred, for anyone. It felt different, odd, uncomfortable. It wasn't who he was, wasn't who he was supposed to be. And he knew that.

And yet…

It did not ease the pain in his chest. It did not make the emotions fade, it did not lessen his feelings. The fury was still there, dancing before his eyes and ringing in his ears, altering the way he saw the world, the way he reacted to his surroundings.

"Veltra!" Oreius said sharply. "Come."

Veltra snapped his eyes back to the centaur, and watched as Oreius recoiled slightly, obviously surprised by the bloodlust and rage that glimmered in the dark depths. But the general quickly regained his composure and stared back at Veltra, and after a moment the Wolf allowed himself to be lead away from the Stone Table.

The scent of Edmund's blood still lingered in the air behind him.

* * *

Night came swiftly. As the sun slowly sank over the horizon, long streaks of red and gold shooting out across the darkening sky and reflecting in the ocean, Edmund leaned against the railing of his balcony and stared blankly out into nothing.

His siblings had not wanted to leave him alone. He supposed he couldn't really blame them for their concern, given that he had nearly died. But during the entire trek back to the Cair, Lucy had clung to his hand and Susan had never once taken her eyes from him. Even Peter, who was at least a little more subdued, had sent him sideways glances frequently.

It was overwhelming.

He'd finally convinced them that he needed to be left alone, claiming exhaustion. The battle with Jadis had taken a lot of his energy and strength, and it must have shown clearly on his face because they had not questioned it. Peter had been reluctant, and Lucy had tentatively suggested that they all sleep in one room, but Edmund had wearily, but firmly, insisted on his own privacy.

He doubted it would last long. They'd creep in during the night, each drawn to his room, needing to convince themselves that he was still breathing. Still alive.

And once again, he could not blame them for that.

But he needed to be alone. He needed to think.

Everything was so clear now. Each memory of the past played before his eyes with sharp and jarring alignment, falling into place and creating a picture of his life. Of the person he had once been, before Narnia. He did not particularly like what he remembered.

He wasn't sure he understood why he was still here.

Peter and Susan had both promised to speak to Silrin as they left him, and he had no doubt that even at this very moment they were in the library, pouring over old texts and dust-covered tomes, looking for answers. He wasn't sure what they would find, but he did not the Jadis was gone. He could no longer feel her lingering presence, no longer feel the remnants of fear and ice that had plagued him for so long.

Still…

Shouldn't he be happier?

A warmth filled the air around him, and he did not need to turn to no who had joined him.

He turned anyway. "Aslan," he murmured tiredly.

The Great Lion paused beside him, slowly lowering Himself into a sitting position. Even sitting, He was taller than Edmund, and the young king had to tilt his head up to stare into those brown eyes.

"Jadis is gone," Edmund said. He looked back out at the water. "I suppose she was always gone. Peter told me about how You killed her in the Battle of Beruna. So she wasn't really here… but she was alive in me. And now I don't feel her anymore. So that must mean she's gone."

He spoke more to fill the empty silence than to start any form of conversation. The feeling of inadequacy had not left him, despite the victory over Jadis, and in the silence he could still hear her echoing laughter, even though he knew it was just his own memory still playing tricks on him.

If he were truly honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't even fully understand _why_ he felt so discontent. Part of it could be attributed to the time he had spent with the White Witch, the time he had listened to her poisonous words and let his own heart filled with terror and rage. But she was gone, and if she was the only thing that had caused him to feel so alone, so afraid, so confused… shouldn't he be happier now?

Aslan still had not spoken, and Edmund leaned further out against the railing and knew that the Great Lion was waiting for something. An admission, perhaps, or an explanation? He wasn't sure, and maybe it didn't really matter. He didn't want to talk anyway.

But he did not like the stillness or the silence.

"Melancholy," he said after a few minutes. "That is what I feel." He chewed his bottom lip and contemplated the word. "Not sad, not really. But not happy, either." He couldn't help but wonder if somehow Jadis had succeeded at twisting a part of his soul. It felt as though she would forever leave an imprint on him.

Peter had not liked him. In the past, before Narnia, Peter had not liked him. It did not bother him as much as he thought it would – after all, he had not particularly liked Peter. But still… He could not help but wonder what had changed.

He had seen Peter's expression of disbelief and elation when they crossed paths in the mountains. He had seen the trepidation turn to unbridled joy when Susan and Lucy had finally seen him again upon his arrival at Cair Paravel. He knew those emotions were real. And that did not surprise him. Because he knew, even when he and his siblings did not like each other, they still _always_ loved each other.

But then… after that… They had wanted to spend time with him. Wanted to enjoy his company. They _liked_ him, and he couldn't quite figure that out. When had they started liking him? When had he started liking them?

When had it changed?

Jadis had told him that he was a coward, that he wanted to take the easy way out because he could not face the possibility of confronting his siblings, of trying to figure out how and where he fit into this new world, this new family.

He didn't want to die. He'd never really wanted to die. But he had wanted a chance to choose something else, something different from this life that had been pushed unceremoniously upon him.

He wanted to _not_ remember.

"I'm scared," he admitted in a quiet voice.

And Aslan answered, "I know."

"I think I liked myself better when I did not remember the past. I think I liked Peter, Susan, and Lucy better when I did not remember." He turned back to Aslan, turning away from the ocean and the sunset. He sank down to the floor of the balcony, pulling his legs into his chest and leaning his back against the railing.

Aslan dropped to the ground beside him. "You cannot avoid the past, Edmund," He cautioned. "You cannot go back to change it, either. The only direction you can move is forward, into the future."

"It isn't that simple," Edmund hissed in frustration.

"Of course not, child. Life never is that simple."

"I wish… I wish there was an easy answer," Edmund muttered sullenly. "I wish… I wish I knew how I was supposed to feel."

"There is no right answer to that question," Aslan countered, His tone thoughtful and contemplative. "Your feelings are your own, and you cannot expect them to be dictated by others." He paused, the nudged Edmund's knees with His nose. "How do you feel?"

Edmund shrugged. "I don't know. I am glad that I… that I am not dead. But I don't know how I am supposed to go back and face them. Be part of this… this family. I love them, I do. I just… I don't know. I don't… I'm just so confused. I've lost so much time… and I can't go back to… to being… what I was. But I don't really know… I'm scared."

"Of course you are," Aslan answered.

Edmund snorted, "Why can't I not be scared?" He was well aware of how petulant he sounded, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He felt strangely detached, as though he had been watching the past few days happen to someone else. It couldn't be real. It just… this couldn't be his life.

And yet, it was…

"Do you know what you are afraid of, Son of Adam?" Aslan asked seriously.

Edmund opened his mouth to retort, a flippant remark on the tip of his tongue, but the chiding look in Aslan's eyes was enough to make him pause, to make him really consider the question. He leaned back against the railing and wrapped his arms around his chest, flopping his legs forward.

"I'm afraid," he said slowly, haltingly, "that it will always feel… awkward. Uncomfortable. That I'll always… spend my life wondering… why. Why this happened… to me. I do not like the person I was, before Narnia. And yet, I also know I can't forget it all and go back to the Village. I can't be who I _want_ to be, and I don't want to be who I _can_ be…" He stopped, trailed off looking suddenly a little uneasy.

He couldn't explain it. He knew there was no reason to try to hide anything from Aslan, the Lion would see through his lies and omissions. But how could he explain anything to anyone else when he wasn't sure he understood it himself?

"I don't know who I am," he admitted finally.

"You cannot force anything to work out perfectly for you," Aslan advised. "But that is not a good enough reason to stop fighting. Peace is not an easy thing to find, Edmund. Not for anyone."

Edmund leaned forward, resting his head against Aslan's side. "How do I do this? How do I figure everything out? How do I… how do I manage it?"

Aslan nuzzled him again and answered, "By remembering that no matter how lonely you feel, you are not actually alone."

* * *

The first night at Cair Paravel after Edmund's miraculous recovery leaves vague regrets and strange thoughts floating through the minds of the four royal siblings in _Chapter Twenty-Three: 78% H__2__O._


	24. 78 H2O

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: The first night at Cair Paravel after Edmund's miraculous recovery leaves vague regrets and strange thoughts floating through the minds of the four royal siblings.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: 78% H2O

_First you roll your eyes to heaven,  
Say you never felt love so divine.  
But it will go from more than ever,  
To not enough in no time._

_- Ani DiFranco, "78% H__2__O"_

The rock left Peter's hand and flew through the air, curving upwards and disappearing for a moment in the dark night sky, before plummeting back to the ground below. He watched it fall, listening to the sound of the stone as it collided with the dirt and rolled a few more feet. When it finally came to a rest, he strode forward and picked it up again, turning it over in the palm of his hand.

He dropped the stone again, letting it fall through his fingers, and glanced over at the sand that sloped towards the ocean. He stood at the edge of the beach, walking silently along the path in between the sand and the grassy field. He could just barely hear the sound of soft paws treading through the grass behind him, one of his guard following silently to make sure he was not in danger.

Something moved along the sand, and he squinted, the faint light of the moon allowing him to make up the subtle outline of a Wolf. For a moment, he felt a brief rush of panic, but quickly quelled it as the Wolf drew nearer and he saw that it was Veltra.

The Wolf paused, lifting his snout to the air, then moved slowly towards Peter as though following a scent. He paused before the High King, eyes questioning.

"What are you doing, Veltra?"

The Wolf fell into step beside Peter as he answered, "Walking, your Majesty." His glowing eyes turned briefly back towards the Cair, before scanning the sky for signs of movement, and Peter knew he was waiting, watching, guarding…

Just in case.

Edmund had already been carried off by a giant Bat once, and another set of eyes to watch the sky for intruders could be helpful.

"And you, your Majesty? It is late at night. What brings you to the ocean?" Veltra asked.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. The Wolf was making some sort of attempt at a civil conversation, and he supposed that he was therefore obligated to do the same. For Edmund's sake, he reminded himself, he was attempting to be… decent… to Veltra.

"I could not sleep," he admitted. "My sisters are at the Cair. Susan is researching the Deep Magics with out librarian, and Lucy is watching over Edmund…" He trailed off with a faint grin, lost in thought. He had slipped into Edmund's room moments before coming down to the beach, and had seen Edmund lying in the bed, caught in an uneasy sleep, and Lucy sitting curled in a chair in the corner, watching over him.

She had been holding her precious cordial tightly in her hands.

A cool breeze buffeted his hair, and Peter sighed. The night was neither warm nor cold, and the air smelled like the salt of the ocean. He inhaled slowly.

"Is Edmund well?" Veltra asked quietly.

With a start, Peter realized that the Wolf had not seen Edmund at all since his miraculous defeat of the White Witch. Edmund, himself, had not inquired about Veltra, which was odd as well. But now that Edmund remembered the past, he probably had far too many other confusing concerns to deal with at the moment. The neglect certainly was not intentional, and Edmund would most likely seek out the Wolf soon.

Still… Peter turned his mind to Veltra's question and tried to determine how to best answer it. Was Edmund well? He didn't know, but he didn't really think so. He had been unable to read the expression on Edmund's face, unable to decipher the thoughts reflected in those gray eyes.

"He is alive," Peter said finally, and that was really what mattered the most.

Veltra nodded, but said nothing.

They continued to walk in silence, trailed by Peter's stealthy guard. Peter let the silence fall, and let his own thoughts pull at him, even though they nearly threatened to tear him apart. Somehow, he could not reconcile himself to this new Edmund. He had wanted so desperately for Edmund to remember his past, and yet now that he had those memories…

It seemed the distance between them had only grown.

"He feels no pain from the wound the Witch inflicted, then?" Veltra asked after a moment.

The question startled Peter from his thoughts, and he frowned at the Wolf. It took a moment for the meaning of the words to penetrate into his mind, and then he blinked and replied, "No, I don't think so. Lucy's cordial fixed it."

Veltra looked away and said, "That is good." After a pause, he added, "I am thinking of returning to the Village soon."

Peter gaped. "You are?" he asked, so astounded by the words that for a moment he forgot that he should be happy about this. Wasn't it what he had wanted all along? For Veltra to leave and stop imposing his influence into their lives?

Still… it shocked him that the Wolf would voluntarily leave so soon.

"You have your brother back," Veltra replied. "I only came to support Edmund in this new situation, your Majesty. He does not need my support anymore. He has his memories, and the three of you." And without waiting for a response, he turned and loped away, his legs moving quickly as he ran through the night.

Peter stared at the fading shadow of the Wolf and had the strangest sensation that something important had just happened, and he had completely missed it.

* * *

By the time Peter finally made it back to the Cair, the night had worn on long enough that the faint glow of the sun could be seen, a thin line of red and orange stretching out across the horizon.

He paused at the entrance to the Cair, not quite wanting to step through those gates and face all the Animals and Creatures that were waiting for him. He knew that there was much left to be done, families that needed reassurance of their safety, soldiers that needed burials, and with Aslan here, a coronation to plan. But just for a moment, he lingered, enjoying the solitude.

But the echoing of hooves on the stone path alerted him to the fact that he was not quite as alone as he had hoped.

He turned and watched impassively as Philip drew near. The Horse inclined his head and said, "Good morning, your Majesty."

Peter glanced towards the sky. It was still dark enough to see the stars and the moon, their faint glow illuminating the Cair in a soft bluish-white light. "I am not sure I would call it morning yet, Philip," he replied with a small smile.

Philip hesitated, then said, "You seem troubled."

Peter groaned inwardly. He knew that Philip was far more perceptive than most, and there was no point trying to lie or attempting to hide his thoughts. But his relationship with Philip had always been strained, and he simply did not like the idea of discussing his concerns with the Horse.

More than that, Philip was most certainly _not_ known for his sense of propriety. If he felt as though some matter was important, he had no qualms about pushing it, even if the High King did not want to enter that particular conversation. The attributes made him a good advisor and strategist, but were annoying nonetheless.

"It is nothing unexpected," Peter said firmly. "There is a lot to be worried about at the moment."

"Indeed," Philip agreed, but his tone held the slightest touch of disbelief to it.

Peter turned away, not wanting to deal with the Horse. But even as he did so, he could not quite block out the memories of their last, greatest argument. The disastrous campaign against the Giants in the north had come at a great cost for Narnia, and Peter knew he was to blame for much of that. Since then, he had been trying to be a better leader, a better king.

Had he succeeded? He wasn't sure.

"Can I help in any way?" Philip asked after a moment of silence.

Peter was not sure what exactly the Horse was offering to help with, and his first instinct was to bluntly refuse. Then a thought came to mind, and he looked back at Philip with a contemplative stare. "Veltra has said he wishes to return to the Village soon."

Philip looked surprised. "He did?" the Horse asked in a questioning tone.

"Yes. I… am not sure why. Can you talk to him about it?" Peter could not explain exactly why this bothered him so much, but he knew that he would not be able to rest until everything had been sorted and explained, and Veltra's strange behavior was included in the things that puzzled him.

"Of course, your Majesty," Philip replied, "but what do you wish me to say?"

"I just want…" He tilted his head back and looked up at the Cair. It rose above him, towering darkly. Behind one of those many glass windows, Edmund slept, watched over by Lucy. Aslan roamed the halls, and Susan was most likely still in the library, still sorting through tomes, looking for answers.

He wanted everything with Edmund to be resolved. And though he truly hated to admit it, Veltra was an important part of the equation.

"I don't know," he muttered, chewing his bottom lip. "Just talk to him."

"I will," Philip promised. "How is your brother?"

"Sleeping," Peter answered, because there was nothing else he could say. He didn't know how Edmund was doing, and that was exactly the problem.

Philip asked tentatively, "And how are you?"

Exasperated, Peter snapped, "I told you, Philip, that there was nothing unexpected to worry us. Why do you insist on asking when I have already answered?"

Philip withdrew a few steps. "Very well," he replied. "I will speak to Veltra."

The Horse began to trot away, and Peter stared after him. Philip had never backed out of an argument before, not if he truly believed he was right and that the fate of Narnia was hanging in the balance. To see him walk away now was not only completely unanticipated, but also worrisome.

Why was everyone acting so out of character?

Then Philip paused and looked back. "Have faith, your Majesty," he offered. "It will work out in the end."

Peter leaned back against the stone wall and replied, "How can you be so sure? You and Lucy both… always believing that everything will turn out for the better."

Philip snorted. "I would hardly consider myself overly optimistic," he countered. "And I certainly have not been blessed with the same faith that Queen Lucy has. But Aslan is here, your brother is alive and safe, and Jadis is gone. I have faith in that."

"I wish I had that faith as well," Peter muttered. "But I… I do not know." He did not say that his faith in Aslan had been severely weakened during the ordeal. He did not say that he had yet to truly accept that Jadis was gone and the danger had passed. He did not express his own fears about his capability as king, nor did he mention that he felt apprehensive about his ability to be a decent older brother to Edmund.

Philip never needed to hear the words to understand what the silence really meant, and he said, "In time, and with practice, all people learn. This, too, will pass, and you will find faith again."

"Thank you," Peter murmured, surprised by the sentiment.

Philip nodded once and trotted away, and Peter turned and walked through the gates and into the Cair, ready to start the day.

* * *

Susan shut the last of the books, sneezing as the cover fell against the parchment and sent a cloud of dust swirling into the air. Her eyes began to water, and she brushed at them impatiently and glanced over at Silrin. The old satyr was shuffling about, piling scrolls of parchment and books on the shelves.

"It's really over, isn't it?" she said softly.

He turned, smiling. "I think so, your Majesty."

Susan glanced around. All the tables were covered in open books and pieces of parchment, testament to the amount of research she had done. Nothing was clear, nothing was nicely outlined for her to understand, but she had waded through all of it, reading over and over anything she could find about the Deep Magic.

And it seemed like Jadis was really gone and everything was really, truly, completely over.

Well, not completely.

The emotional scars of his battles still lingered, even though Lucy's cordial had healed the physical pain. How long would it be before those, too, were healed?

"We almost lost," Susan mused aloud. "Edmund could have died, or worse… Jadis could have brought her terror back to the land. We almost… we almost lost."

"But you didn't lose, Queen Susan," Silrin wheezed in reply. He hobbled forward and paused by the table, leaning closer to Susan. "It does no good to dwell on what might have happened."

Susan nodded in agreement and watched as the satyr continued moving about, shifting books and scrolls in his own personal categorizing system.

She should have felt relief. The imminent danger was gone, and if Silrin agreed with her that Jadis had finally faded from their lives, then she could believe that. And Edmund had finally remembered the past, so no longer would he be a stranger residing in her brother's body.

But she did not feel relief.

"The day is near to starting, your Majesty," Silrin commented as he disappeared amidst the stacks.

Susan rose to her feet, exhausted. She had not slept at all that night, but she had a feeling it would be a while before she was able to sleep, to truly relax and let her guard done, to stop expecting the next bad thing to be right around the corner.

She did not feel relief, because she remembered what Peter and Lucy did not.

She remembered that she hadn't liked Edmund.

She'd loved him, of course. He was her younger brother, and she'd loved him the way she loved Peter and Lucy, the way she'd loved her parents. But she had not liked him. She had not enjoyed spending time with him, she had not been fond of looking after him when her father was at war and her mother was busy.

Time and grief had erased the past and rewritten it with a different story. The new story, the one that Peter and Lucy remembered, focused on all of Edmund's good traits, and ignored the sullen behavior, the bitter and sardonic attitude. And while their few years as rulers of Narnia had brought Peter, Susan, and Lucy so much closer, weaving ties and binds between them that could not be undone by anything, Edmund did not have that experience. Narnia had changed him, but it had not brought him closer to his siblings.

So the story Peter and Lucy remembered, their version of the past, was not actually true.

And Susan knew that Edmund remembered that as well.

And she knew how this disconnect between memory and reality would eventually unfold. Peter and Lucy expected that regained memories would be all that really mattered, enough to the put them all on the right path to forming the right bonds. Susan could try to warn them, to guide them away from expecting too much, but they would simply roll their eyes at her and wave off her fears.

They both believed that this was enough, this was perfect. That everything was falling into place.

And Edmund might pull away from them, might have concerns and questions. He might revert back to being sullen and miserable, he might try to be the complete opposite. Either way, he would not be the Edmund they wanted. And sooner or later, that would cause resentment and anger. She had no idea who would feel resentment and who would feel anger, but she knew it _would_ happen.

No, she did not feel relief.

* * *

Edmund awoke to the sensation of something heavy sprawled across his legs. His dreams had been dark and filled with guilt and despair, and the weight of the lower half of his body pushed him downwards, almost suffocating him.

It took a moment, and some great inner strength, to fight back the urge to panic. Then he opened his eyes and found himself lying in his own bed in the Cair, soft pillows propping up his head and a firm mattress under his back. And Lucy, still asleep, stretched across his legs.

He reached out one hand to shake her awake, then thought better of it and withdrew his arm, letting it fall back to the bed by his side. Sunlight streamed in the open window, golden rays illuminating the small specks of dust that hovered in the air, rising and falling in a slow and languish rhythm. The air was fresh and cool, a faint trace of sea salt drifting towards him, mixed with the distant sound of Creatures going about their daily business.

He looked back at Lucy, noted the way her fingers were clenched tightly around her vial of cordial. The magic potion that had brought him back from the brink of death.

"_What are you doing, Nasada?"_

_The girl looked up, her pale cheeks flushed a rosy red, her blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She was sitting on the floor of the room, a bowl in front of her, and several different types of berries, roots, and plants organized on the ground._

"_I'm making a potion," she said seriously, crushing some purple berries in her hand and glancing down as the juice dripped from her palm into the bowl. "It will protect you and Father while you hunt."_

_Edmund eyed the stuff warily. Given the different items she had collected for her potion, he had no doubt it would taste absolutely awful. But she was looking at him so expectantly, and he could not bring himself to upset her in any way._

"_It looks wonderful," he heard himself say. "When will it be ready?"_

"_Soon!" the young girl answered happily._

_The fake smile still plastered to his face, he groaned inwardly and walked out of the hut, wondering if there was anyway he could convince her to give it all to Dar instead of splitting it between them._

He stared at the vial. A real magical potion. Once upon a time, he did not believe in any of that. But, of course, once upon a time, he did not believe in Narnia or Aslan. Or, perhaps it was not that he did not believe, but simply that he had not been exposed to the ideas yet.

He shifted his legs carefully, cautious not to wake Lucy. But she was in a deep sleep, and she did not seem to notice as he slid out from under her and rolled to his feet, leaving her alone on the bed.

He walked to the window and looked up at the rising sun.

He had been nice to Nasada. He had cared for her, looked after her safety and her happiness. He had put her wants ahead of his own, not out of any sense of responsibility or duty, but simply because he had wanted to. Because being part of that family, doing his best to help Sera, Dar, and Nasada, had made _him_ happy.

Had he ever acted that way towards Lucy? Had he ever valued her smile above his own?

He did not have to think long over that question, he knew the answer. Once, when they were little, he might have cared for Lucy. When they were even younger, when Lucy really was a baby… But more recently? No, he had certainly not acted that way towards her in the recent past.

Why had he been so eager to be part of a family that was not really his when he had already rejected the family he had? Why had he allowed himself to interact with Nasada in ways that he would never have interacted with Lucy? He played the older siblings without thinking, easily falling into the role. But he had not done it before…

Why?

And what was supposed to happen now?

He was not alone. He tried to remember that, tried to remember Aslan's words, to repeat them over and over in his mind. But it was not easy to cling to that, not when the weight of the day pressed against him. Too much had happened, and how could he really convince himself that he was not alone when there was no one who understood what he felt?

He had betrayed his family.

For Turkish Delight.

But the betrayals kept happening. It wasn't enough that he had sold them out to Jadis. He had then proceeded to forget about them, to replace them with others. Maybe not by choice, but he had done it all the same. And for what? What could he have possibly hoped to gain from that?

If he was ever going to make find a new future, he first needed to make peace with the past.

He looked at Lucy. She slept peacefully, unaware of her brother's inner turmoil, protected by the knowledge that she was loved and adored by everyone. Her smile could light up a room, her laugh could break the worst of tensions. There was no one who would not sacrifice everything for her.

Edmund bit his lip, then made a decision. He wasn't sure it was the right decision, wasn't sure that he even wanted to go through with this. He had no idea what he would say or how the conversation would proceed, but he made the decision all the same.

He needed to make peace with the past, and the first step towards doing that was laid plainly before him.

He had to find Mr. Tumnus.

* * *

Edmund talks to Mr. Tumnus, and Philip talks to Veltra, but it is the conversation between Peter and Edmund that makes the most progress towards healing the broken bonds... and threatens to shatter Peter's faith in Aslan in _Chapter Twenty-Four: Time After Time._


	25. Time After Time

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Edmund talks to Mr. Tumnus, and Philip talks to Veltra, but it is the conversation between Peter and Edmund that makes the most progress towards healing the broken bonds... and threatens to shatter Peter's faith in Aslan.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Time After Time

_After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray,  
Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay._

_You said, "Go slow,"  
I fall behind –  
The drums beats out of time_

_If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,  
Time after time._

_-Cyndi Lauper, "Time After Time"_

Needless to say, Mr. Tumnus was both surprised and worried when he received Edmund's summons. Part of him expected to be thrown in prison or some such punishment for his actions, and that part of him wanted desperately to ignore the request for his presence and run away. But the other part of him, the rational part, forced him forward, and he trudged along the sand of the beach, following the instructions in the summons until he came upon Edmund sitting on a bench in a small pavilion.

"Your Majesty," he said, clearing his throat and announcing his presence.

Edmund looked up, pulled out of his own troubled thoughts at the sound of Mr. Tumnus' approach. He gave an apologetic smile and rose to his feet.

"I'm sorry to have sent someone to find you," he said a little nervously. "I just…" he gave a hapless shrug, "I really just had no idea how to find you."

"There is nothing to apologize for," the faun said slowly, with a frown. He wasn't sure why the younger Pevensie brother was acting so… nice. Given the fury that he had seen reflected in the gazes of King Peter and Queen Lucy, he had expected Edmund to react the same.

"I just wished to… to talk." Edmund nodded towards the beach. "Can we… walk for a moment?" His tone was hesitant, and he dropped his gaze as he spoke.

"Of course, your Majesty," Mr. Tumnus replied, now thoroughly wrong-footed by the conversation. Why was Edmund so nervous?

They walked in silence, the morning sun beating down on them. The wind was cool despite the heat of the sun, the gentle breeze brushing past them, ruffling the otherwise smooth surface of the ocean. Soft waves lapped along the sand, barely leaving any impression behind. It was idyllic, although much of Narnia was idyllic now that the Witch's Winter was over.

When it became clear that Edmund wanted to talk, but didn't really seem to know how to start the conversation, Mr. Tumnus said cautiously, "It is beautiful here. Sometimes, I do regret that I do not spend the entire year here."

"You could move here," Edmund replied, sounding grateful for the faun's effort to make conversation. "I am sure my sister would be thrilled."

Mr. Tumnus flushed slightly. "It is always a delight to see Queen Lucy," he said slowly, "but my home is in the Lantern Waste. I could not… I could not leave."

"You and Lucy are close," Edmund commented.

"Yes," the faun replied bluntly. "I… I am fortunate to have such a friend."

Edmund paused, looking out at the ocean. For a moment, he said nothing, and the two of them stood there, underneath the cloudless sky. Then he turned and looked back at the faun, his expression serious. "I need to ask you something… unpleasant."

"You may ask anything you wish, your Majesty," Mr. Tumnus replied dutifully.

But Edmund still did not ask the question, and lowered his gaze for a moment. It took Mr. Tumnus a few seconds to realize it was not embarrassment or apprehension that prevented the young King from asking his questions, but rather it was that Edmund did not yet know what he wanted to ask. He had obviously come to the conclusion that they needed to speak, but had not worked out the specifics.

Finally, Edmund said, "Why did you…?" He didn't finish the sentence, but instead trailed off uncomfortably.

Mr. Tumnus answered anyway, because he'd known all along what the question was. "I think I was partially jealous, partially angry. And… part of me was worried as well. I am not… entirely sure of my actions. I spoke without thinking."

"Jealous, angry, and worried?" Edmund prompted.

The faun nodded. "Yes. How much did Queen Lucy tell you about my loyalties before you and your royal siblings came to Narnia?"

Edmund blinked, trying to remember. "No… I don't recall…" he said softly, lost in his own memories. Then, with an apologetic shrug, he added, "My memories from the past are still somewhat muddled."

"I was once… in the White Witch's employ," Mr. Tumnus said slowly. He wans't sure why he was admitting this, except that he knew, better than most, how important it was to stay in Edmund's good graces. If he ever wanted to repair his friendship with the youngest Queen, he needed to right his previous wrongs. And to do that, he had to explain why he had been so upset by Edmund's presence.

Edmund blinked, shocked. "I… you… _what_?"

"When Queen Lucy first came to Narnia, I… I was going to take her to…" He trailed off, ashamed, and refused to meet Edmund's gaze. Instead, he looked away, up towards the sand dunes that gently rose and fell before them. "I did not… of course. As you can see. I… I helped her escape back to… to your… place. Because she was so…" He stopped, shook himself, and was unable to finish the thought.

But Edmund spoke, "Because you fell in love with her. Just like everyone else does, every time they so much as look at her. Because she's Lucy and… and nobody with any good in them at all can hurt Lucy and not feel guilty about it." There was a tense pause, and then Edmund added, "Except me."

Mr. Tumnus started, eyes spinning quickly to meet Edmund's frank stare. "I did not…" he stammered, unsure of how to proceed. It had not been his intention to accuse Edmund of anything he had done in the past, before Narnia, but it was clear that that was where the conversation had gone.

"You were angry and jealous because I had hurt Lucy, and no one remembered that, no one even cared. And I had hurt you…" Edmund stopped, drew a long, slow inhale. "For Turkish Delight."

The silence was tense, and Mr. Tumnus studied the guilt-filled gray eyes before him. Then he said, "And I was worried… no one was telling you what had happened, your Majesty, and I thought…"

"That I might join Jadis?" Edmund gave a dark chuckle and continued, "You are not the only one who thought that. For a while, I believed it as well."

"But I should have known better," Mr. Tumnus said, his tone thick with remorse. "You did not remember the past, Sire, but I did. And I knew… you were not the same… I should have known that you would not have willingly betrayed Narnia… or Queen Lucy… again."

"Maybe you should have known that," Edmund conceded. "But maybe not."

"I am sorry," Mr. Tumnus said, and he truly meant it. "Some of my reasons for my words may have been well-meaning, but… I was angry, and I was jealous. And… I hurt Queen Lucy, who is dearer to me than…" He stopped, bit his lip, started again, "It was not my place to tell you any of that, no matter my intentions… I am sorry."

Edmund nodded. They started walking again, a quiet falling between them. It was not peaceful, but it was not tense either. Edmund was lost in thought, musing over what Mr. Tumnus had said, and the faun was thinking about the future, and wondering if anything would be put right again. He could only hope it would be soon, because he could not bear to have Queen Lucy so angry at him. And his apology was less for Edmund and more for Lucy, and it was clear from the look on Edmund's face that the young king understood that.

"I should have come to apologize sooner," Mr. Tumnus said finally. "But I… you had only just returned from the Stone Table and I did not think you would want to see me… and I was… afraid. Afraid that you might not forgive me for… for what I had done."

Edmund nodded. "If I did not forgive you for your betrayal, how could I expect anyone to forgive me for mine?" Then, after a moment, he added, "You were looking out for Lucy. And, for what it is worth, I am… I am glad that my sister has someone like that… someone who is looking out for her."

The faun did not reply, and the two walked in silence once more.

* * *

Philip found Veltra pacing back and forth in the barn. The Wolf was a bundle of nerves, of pent-up energy that threatened to explode at any moment, threatened to burst within him and turn him into something unrecognizable. The Horse frowned, as much as a Horse could frown, and eyed the Wolf with a worried stare.

"What?" Veltra snapped, turning sharply towards the newcomer.

"Walk with me," Philip ordered, his tone indicating that there would be no arguing against his request. Veltra, recognizing that, followed the Horse out of the barn and into the early morning light, grumbling to himself as he did so.

Cair Paravel was swarming with movements, Creatures moving back and forth along the cobblestone paths. They paid little attention to the Horse or the Wolf, most too engrossed in their own tasks to notice the others. Before them, the Cair itself rose, towering against the sky, and Veltra paused, glancing at it.

Edmund was somewhere in there. The real Edmund, the one who had been born in a land far away, a place that Veltra did not know and could never even really fathom.

"What do you want?" he asked finally, turning to Philip and padding softly along the ground after the Horse.

"To talk. King Peter says you plan to return to your Village soon." Philip glanced back at Veltra, and watched as the telltale signs of anger and guilt flickered through the Wolf's eyes. He turned his head away, allowing Veltra a moment to gather himself, and then added, "Why?"

Vetra growled. "What is it to you?"

They passed through the gates around the city, stepping out onto the dirt road that twisted slowly through the grasslands and into the woods. There were less Animals around, less Creatures to overhear their conversation.

Philip snorted. "Honestly, I do not care. But King Peter asked me to speak to you about it, and so here I am."

"King Peter asked?" Veltra repeated, dumbfounded. He knew for a fact that his indifference to Peter was reflected in Peter's complete apathy towards him, and found it difficult to believe that the High King would actually care that he was planning to return to the Village. In fact, he was surprised that Peter was not ecstatic, given that it meant the last remnants of Edmund's missing years would finally be gone.

"He did," Philip said.

Veltra pawed at the ground for a moment, thinking. Finally, he ground out, "It is my decision, not his."

"Does King Edmund know you are leaving?" Philip pressed, and was not surprised when the Wolf lowered his gaze and did not answer. With a sigh, the perceptive Horse asked, "Do you plan to tell him?"

Veltra's lips pulled back into a sneer as he answered, "Of course. I will not simply disappear. But, again, it is my decision, not anyone else's. And I do not need permission…"

"Of course not," Philip agreed, interrupting before Veltra could continue the argument. "But the young king is your friend. Do you not think you owe him an explanation? And, perhaps, some warning?"

Veltra shook his head and walked further out along the dirt path. "Is that why you have come? To tell me I need to be more considerate of Edmund's feelings?" He glanced back, eyes narrowed. "I will tell him. You do not need to worry about that."

"Yes, I do," Philip countered. "He is my king. I need to worry about him. That is part of my job." He trotted swiftly forward, turning in front of the Wolf. "Why are you doing this?" he asked sharply, his tone serious.

"It will not affect Edmund," Veltra snapped, teeth flashing as he growled. "He has his siblings. He has his memory. He is not alone."

"Is that what this is about? Now that King Edmund has his memory, you do not think…"

"I do not think," Veltra cut in, "that this is any of your concern."

"Humor me."

Veltra refused to answer, and instead lapsed into a sullen silence. The tension between them tightened, straining the conversation, and Philip shifted his hooves back and forth along the ground, unsure of how to proceed. The darkness in Veltra's eyes was unnerving, as was the Wolf's complete apathy towards Edmund's feelings. Had the war with Jadis changed him so much? In only a few days, it was as though he had become a completely different Animal.

"You are being selfish," Philip said finally, and saw the flash of anger in Veltra's eyes. He pressed on, regardless. "You seem to care little for King Edmund, if you are so willing to leave him now. I have heard rumors that Wolves are undyingly loyal to their pack. I presume that is why you came all the way from the mountains to be here, to watch over him? Is the young king no longer your family? Have his regained memories torn him away form you?"

"You dare presume…" Veltra snarled, barring two rows of sharp teeth.

"I dare quite a lot of things," Philip cut in, unperturbed by the anger. "And you _are_ being selfish."

"You arrogant…"

Again, Philip interrupted before Veltra could finish the argument. "Perhaps," he conceded with a thoughtful nod of his head. "I have been here a long time, Veltra, and I am entitled to some arrogance. Particularly when I am right."

"You are not right. You know nothing about me. And this… my decision… it _isn't_ about Edmund's regained memories."

"I know you are running away from something. Whatever it is, you are willing to abandon your family to escape it. What I do not understand is why you think this will help you. What will you tell Dar and Sera when you return to the Village? What will you tell Nasada when she asks you why you left her brother?"

The silence that fell over the two of them was intense, filled with Veltra's simmering rage and Philip's calm and collected curiosity. It stretched onwards, painful and tense, until the Wolf said softly, "I cannot stay here."

"Why not?"

"You would not understand," Veltra answered, stepping around Philip and walking further along the path. The forest loomed ahead of him, and as he stared at the interlocking trees, he thought of the several battles he had fought, the other Creatures he had killed to keep Edmund safe. Alive.

"Then explain it to me," Philip suggested mildly. "Make me understand."

"I don't know… I don't know if you can," Veltra answered honestly. "You've never… you do not feel this… this hatred. This rage. I am a Wolf, and I know it is my blood to… to feel this way after a kill. But I have not… I _do not_ kill. I have no experience with it, and now that I… now that I feel it…" He trailed off, unable to finish.

"You are afraid," Philip supplied softly. "Of yourself."

Veltra nodded slowly, gave Philip a long stare. "Yes." And that was the simple truth. He was not leaving because he believed that Edmund no longer needed him. He knew the boy had regained his memories, but he also knew that it was not so easy to overcome the past, and Edmund would still need as much support as he could get. So, no, that was not what pushed him away.

What was forcing him to leave now was that he didn't believe he was safe anymore. Certainly not around Edmund. The memories were burned into his mind, and he could not forget the scent of Edmund's blood or the rage that pounded through his body at the sight of the Stone Table. He could not control his emotions, could not prevent himself from becoming something unrecognizable. A monster. How could he stay around Edmund now, when the mere sight of the younger Pevensie brother brought back such a terrible fury? He would be of no use to Edmund, and could possibly become something dangerous.

He was afraid of himself, of what he could become. And maybe he could not change that, maybe the past was now to firmly etched into his memory, more regrets that would not fade, even with time. But…

But he never wanted Edmund to have to be afraid of him as well.

"How will being at the Village help you?" Philip asked. "There is no place in this world, or any other world, where you could run to escape from yourself."

Veltra shook his head. "It isn't me I want to help."

"Ah…" Philip accepted this for a moment, then said, "I cannot tell you what to do, nor do I think you would listen to me even if I tried. But before you make any decision, I do think you owe it to King Edmund to tell him of your plans. Give him the opportunity to decide whether or not your actions will actually help him." Another pause, then, "He trusts you, Veltra. Why can you not offer him the same faith that he gives you?"

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Peter looked up sharply, surprised. "Oh, Ed…" He breathed, sighed slowly. "You startled me. I was just…" He gestured at the scrolls of parchment spread out on the table before him. "Just looking at some things."

Edmund stepped further into his brother's room and glanced at the table. "What things?"

"Oh, for the… uh… for the Coronation." He rolled his eyes and said, "You know, it is really more Susan's area of expertise. I'm not quite as good at planning these sorts of events as she is. But there is so much to do, and she needed some help, so…" He gave sheepish grin and a little shrug.

Edmund nodded in response. "Of course. Susan's plans are… extravagant?"

Peter laughed darkly. "Oh, you have no idea." Shaking his head, he turned away from Edmund and looked back at the table. "Just wait, Ed. After a few months, she'll be dragging you into her plans as well. You can't escape."

"So I'm doomed?" Edmund asked, lips twitching into a slight smile.

Peter returned the smile with his own grin. "Exactly."

There was an awkward silence following the exchange, but Peter could not help but be a little heartened by the fact that Edmund had sought him out, had come to talk to him. The uneasy frustrations of the previous night still played clearly through his mind, as did the memory of Edmund's still body sprawled across the Stone Table, blood seeping through his clothing.

"You were on the beach this morning," Peter said finally, more to break the silence than to actually ask a question.

"Yes. My guard was subtly following me, I presume?" Peter nodded, and Edmund added another question, "And reporting back to you? To let you know where I was and that I was safe?"

"Does that surprise you?" Peter asked with an ironic lift of his eyebrow.

"No," Edmund admitted heavily, "I guess not."

Peter hesitated, then asked in a cautious tone, "Does that bother you?"

It took Edmund a few minutes to gather his thoughts and answer the question, and Peter felt his concern increase to worry. He did not want to make Edmund feel uncomfortable in anyway, nor did he want his brother to think that he was not trusted. But he also simply could not function if he was worrying about what might happen, and he needed to know that Edmund was safe. He always needed to know that about his siblings, but Edmund most of all.

After everything that had happened…

At last, Edmund said, "I know… I remember… being the younger sibling. But it has been a long time for me, and I… I think I am simply not used to having older siblings to look after me."

"You will remember. Just give it some time," Peter offered, unsure what else to say.

Edmund took a few more steps into the room and sat down on one of Peter's chairs. He was wearing plain clothes, a pair of trousers and a shirt that looked more like what he would have worn in the Village. It seemed out of place amidst the finery of Cair Paravel. But Edmund himself seemed out of place, and Peter did not yet have the heart to tell him it would be more appropriate if he wore something else.

Peter pushed a few of the scrolls aside, knocking a quill to the ground. He bent forward, reaching for the quill, then stopped halfway and straightened again. He slanted a quick look at Edmund, but his brother wasn't looking at him, and he chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

He knew Edmund had been speaking to Mr. Tumnus on the beach. But he also knew that if Edmund had wished to discuss that conversation, he would have brought it up himself. And so, despite how much he desperately wanted to demand the details, he bit his tongue and remained silent.

And, anyway, he could ask Mr. Tumnus if necessary.

"Peter… what if I don't want the Coronation ceremony?"

Peter blinked, thrown by the question. He gave Edmund his full attention then, unsure what his brother was asking. "Do you… do you not want to be a king?"

Edmund shrugged a little uncomfortably. "It… it makes sense, I think, for the rest of you. Magnificent, Gentle, Valiant… But what will Aslan call me? I am not a king, I don't… I don't belong here."

"Then where do you belong?" Peter asked gently, crossing to his brother's side. "Where do you think you belong, if not here? If not with us?"

Edmund shrugged. "I don't know, Peter. Maybe, at some point, I'll feel as though I should be here… I don't belong now, though." He opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, the words dying on his lips. He looked away quickly, as though embarrassed by the thought that had entered his mind, and Peter knew in that instant what Edmund wanted.

"You want to go back to the Village."

Edmund nodded glumly. "It isn't that I want Sera or Dar or Nasada, not exactly. I just… I can't explain it, Pete, but even without my memory… I felt like I belonged there."

"You can't always have what you want," Peter said, his tone a little sharper than he had intended. Edmund flinched, and Peter felt instant remorse for his words. He scrambled mentally for a minute, trying to come up with something better to say, but he could not think of a softer way to phrase his thoughts.

Edmund nodded again. "I know," he whispered.

"Do you?" Peter asked, sitting in the chair across from his brother. "Do you, really?" Gray eyes snapped up to meet his own, and he pressed onwards, "You _are_ a king, Ed, whether you want it or not. You can't escape that."

Edmund inhaled slowly, almost painfully. "Jadis told me I could be a king. I know what she… what she wanted me to be. What kind of king she thought…"

"Ed, listen to me," Peter said forcefully, leaning forward and catching Edmund's hands in his own. "You are not Jadis' king. Aslan will crown you. And Aslan is _not_ Jadis."

Edmund pulled his hands from Peter's grip and jumped to his feet. "But it is not Aslan's decision, Peter. It's mine. I choose what kind of king I will be. And what if… what if Jadis was right all along? She chose me, not any of you. I was her target, I was the one she tried to corrupt. I was the one who became a traitor. Not you."

"What you were in the past does not matter…"

"It matters to me!" Edmund hissed, his voice suddenly filled with an anger that Peter could not comprehend. "Why can't you understand that? Why can't you see that the past is all I have at the moment? That I need to know why this happened, or else…"

"Or else what, Ed?" Peter prompted, rising to his feet as well. The distance between himself and his brother seemed to grow with every second that Edmund remained quiet, and for one terrible moment, Peter thought the chasm that had appeared between them might be insurmountable.

"You have forgotten," Edmund said finally. "And I have remembered. It seems our roles are reversed."

"I do not understand you," Peter replied, a frown creasing the lines of his forehead. His eyebrows came together questioningly as he waited for an explanation, but Edmund remained silent. So he pressed again, "Or else what, Ed? What is it you are afraid of? What have I forgotten?"

"We are not friends," Edmund said bluntly.

Peter blinked, surprised by the harsh tone, the cold words, and the serious look in Edmund's gray eyes. "I…" he faltered, shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"You did not like me, Peter," Edmund answered softly, averting his gaze. "And I did not like you. Don't you remember that? Don't you remember what it was like before Narnia?"

Peter closed his eyes briefly, images of Edmund's sullen features and petty scowls crossing against the blackness of the back of his eyelids. His heart clenched painfully at those memories, but they were so long ago, and seemed to have little bearing on the present. So what did it matter what they had been like in the past?

He opened his eyes and stared hard at Edmund, and he could see by the tension in his brother's jaw and the worry lines that crossed his forehead and pulled his eyebrows together that, for some reason or another, this mattered to Edmund. A lot.

Tentatively, he asked, "Why does that bother you so?"

"How could it _not_ bother me?" Edmund retorted, his expression open and honest, true frustration and heartache in his eyes. "You act like the past does not matter, but I know better than that. You've rewritten our history, changed it so that there were never problems between us. But it is _my_ history, it is all I seem to have at the moment, and you can't just change it to suit your own needs."

"Is that what you think I am doing?" Peter asked gently.

Edmund flopped into the chair once more. "I… I don't know, Peter. I'm just so…" _Lost. Confused. Hurt_. He didn't finish the sentence, and the silent words seemed to echo in the room, reverberating off the walls and bouncing around, filled with more than their simple and straightforward meaning.

Peter sat down as well, and remained silent, waiting for Edmund to continue.

At last, the younger brother said hesitantly, "It feels as though are expecting me to be something I am not. A person I never was. This brother that you miss… the one you've built up in your mind… He doesn't have flaws, does he? You are friends, he could be your confidant if you wanted. You could confide in each other all the time, you could… You would always have each other's backs, in everything."

Peter swallowed slowly. He did not nod, did not in any way concede to Edmund's words, but it didn't matter. They both knew that Edmund was right.

"Don't you see?" Edmund said softly, pleadingly. "That brother doesn't exist. He never did. You miss someone who was never real."

Peter did not answer right away. Instead, he remained quiet, sorting through his jumbled thoughts in an effort to understand Edmund's point of view. The problem remained, however, that he _couldn't_ understand Edmund. Try as he might, he could not comprehend why this mattered so much to his brother.

"Do you not want to be friends?" Peter asked finally. "Is that… is that relationship not one that you… that you want?"

Edmund frowned as he answered, "It isn't that simple."

"Isn't it?" Peter questioned. "The past is in the past. You have the ability to make the present and the future in any way you like. So, really, what matters is what you want, and not what you didn't have before."

"Is that what you want?" Edmund asked, throwing the question back at Peter. "Do you actually want to be friends with me? And not because I've been missing, presumed dead, for so long. Not just because you thought I was gone. Do you want to be friends with me because… because of _me_?"

"Yes."

There wasn't even the slightest bit of hesitation in Peter's voice, and there was likewise not the slightest bit of doubt in his mind.

Edmund dropped his gaze gloomily. "How can you be so sure?"

"Ed… look at me," Peter instructed carefully. He waited until those gray eyes had slowly lifted to meet his own stare, and then he said, "I love you. I always have. Even before Narnia, when I thought you were a spoiled brat and you thought I was an arrogant snob, I always loved you."

"That's not enough," Edmund whispered.

"Yes, it is," Peter countered, his words firm. "Because there is nothing in the world you could ever do that would make me _not_ love you. And if that is true, then why would I _not_ want to be friends with you? Why would I not want that relationship that I envision?"

"What if I'm not good enough? What if I don't measure up to what you want?"

Peter opened his mouth to dismiss the question, to carelessly tell Edmund that something like that would never happen. But the look in his brother's eyes – the desperation and the fear – stopped him from so casually ignoring Edmund's fears. Instead, he answered softly, "If that ever happens, Ed, then it is my problem. Not yours. And I know for a fact that I will have Susan and Lucy to kick some sense into me if necessary."

Edmund replied to that sentiment with a fleeting smile.

"I missed you," Peter continued. "Maybe I chose not to remember our fights, but that didn't mean I'd completely forgotten about them. I know… I know what we were like before Narnia. And yet… I still missed you. All of you, not just the pieces I could pick and choose."

Edmund shrugged a little uncomfortably.

"You are not alone in your confusion, Ed," Peter promised, "and we will figure this out. Together."

Edmund sighed. "It seems there are always reminders that I should listen to Aslan wherever I go," he muttered under his breath.

Peter raised an eyebrow, not following his brother's train of thought. "What do you mean?"

"It is what Aslan told me," Edmund confided. "To remember that even if I feel lonely, I am not alone." He ran a hand through his hair, then said slowly, "When I was in the Village, I would sometimes hear Aslan. Or sense him. It's… complicated. Difficult to explain. Sera and Dar used to… it used to worry them. Sera, mostly. She didn't like it, didn't like that I… I think she thought it put me in danger."

"You heard Aslan?" Peter asked quietly.

"Yes," Edmund replied, not noticing the stiffening of Peter's body, the anger that flashed through the High King's eyes. "And Veltra told me once that Aslan and the Deep Magics had both spoken to me, and I would do well to listen. That was when I was trying to figure out if I could come back here, if I could be a king." He gave Peter a sheepish smile. "Like I said, it seems as though the world is conspiring to tell me I must listen to Aslan as much as possible, and heed His words."

Peter nodded and said nothing, but Edmund didn't notice. He was too lost in his own thoughts to see the pain in his brother's eyes.

And Peter was not happy. Because if Aslan had spoken to Edmund while he was in the Village, than that meant Aslan had known all along that Edmund was alive. And He had even known where Edmund was. And yet he had done nothing to stop it, or to bring Edmund back to Cair Paravel.

Peter had always known it on some level, always known that Aslan had to have been aware of all of this. There was so little that Aslan did not know, so little that the Great Lion could not foresee. But he had ignored that knowledge, pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to convince himself that it was all some great misunderstanding, that Aslan hadn't known, that He had not kept Peter, Susan, and Lucy in the dark.

But here was concrete proof.

Had He lead Edmund to the Village? Or had He simply found out later that Edmund had survived after all?

Did it really matter.

The bitterness Peter had felt, the anger directed towards the Great Lion and the Deep Magics, began to grow, twisting in his stomach, infuriating him. He remembered Susan's tears and Lucy's nightmares. He remembered his own sense of guilt, of horror, of grief. He remembered all those many months of not knowing…

How could Aslan have done this to them?

* * *

Edmund gets pulled into Susan's incessant planning, while Peter and Lucy argue over Aslan's intentions and Veltra tries to confront his own fears. But the four siblings and the Wolf soon find that advice can come from the strangest of places in _Chapter Twenty-Five: Where You Lead Me_.


	26. Where You Lead Me

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Edmund gets pulled into Susan's incessant planning, while Peter and Lucy argue over Aslan's intentions and Veltra tries to confront his own fears. But the four siblings and the Wolf find that advice can come from the strangest of places.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five: Where You Lead Me

_What is life?  
A thousand roads, a thousand ways…  
And why am I so afraid to move?  
I've crossed the line.  
I'm stepping out, so come what may.  
I'd give it all, because I'm drawn to You._

_- Mercy Me, "Where You Lead Me"_

"You have to pick one, Edmund," Susan said with the tiniest bit of annoyance in her voice. She stood before her hapless brother, holding out two scrolls of parchment, each covered in long lists of assorted foods. Her fingers were clenched tightly around the parchment, so tightly that her nails had turned white.

"They're just menus," Edmund said with a frown. "Why can't you choose the right one, Susan? It doesn't matter to me."

Susan looked positively horrified at Edmund's comment, and she said, "But it's _your_ coronation, Ed! You have to care. You just have to."

"But… it's food," Edmund protested, shaking his head at her words. It really did not matter to him at all, and, in fact, simply talking about the upcoming coronation was making him feel rather queasy. He had not seen Aslan since the previous evening, and he wondered, not for the first time, if the Great Lion really intended to go through with this. He did not feel like a king, so how could Aslan crown him?

"It's more than food, Ed," Susan answered disapprovingly. "And it will matter to a lot of our subjects. This is not just a celebration for you, it is for all of Narnia. Once you are crowned, Jadis' reign is truly over."

He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from retorting in frustration. He doubted she was intentionally trying to make him feel guilty for the past, but the reminder that Jadis's power had been kept alive because of him, because of his choices and his actions upon first entering Narnia, did little to ease the ache in his chest.

Still, Susan did have a point. This coronation was not simply about him, it was about all of Narnia. And he could not let it be anything less than perfect. He owed them that much.

"Su… you pick," Edmund said finally. "You are better at this sort of thing than I am, and you always have been. You can decide."

Susan opened her mouth, as though to argue, but then stopped and gave Edmund a long look. He felt as though he was being scrutinized, as though she was somehow seeing straight through his flesh and blood and into his soul.

"Alright," she said at last. "I'll decide the menu. But have you thought about what you will wear?" She glanced in distaste at his current clothing and said delicately, "It will need to be something a little bit more… elegant."

Edmund glanced at his rough clothes, remnants of his time in the freezing mountains surrounding the Village. He had known that it was not the appropriate thing to wear when he had dressed that morning, but it had been comfortable, and it had reminded him of a time when everything was just so much easier.

"I'm sure I can find something suitable," Edmund said. "And anyway, why does it matter? The coronation isn't about clothing and food, Susan. It's about…"

"It is about you becoming a king," Susan agreed gently, placing a hand on his arm as he grimaced at her words. "I know that, Ed. But it isn't as simple as Aslan placing a crown on your head." She took him by the elbow and guided him through the hallway towards the door that he knew lead into the kitchen. He didn't want to face the frantic cooks preparing his meals right now, but he couldn't quite find the strength to pull away from his sister.

"You think that is simple?" Edmund asked with a snort.

Susan gave him a smile, and answered, "Don't worry, we will by there next to you the entire time. Have you thought about what you are going to say?"

Edmund froze, eyes widening with horror. "Say?" he echoed, distraught. "What do you mean?"

Susan gave him an incredulous look. "Well, of course you have to say something. Our subjects will be expecting it. I can't believe you haven't thought this through yet."

Aggravated, Edmund pointed out smoothly, "I was a little too busy trying to fight Jadis. And then almost dying."

Susan folded her arms over her chest and said sternly, "I know it feels as though everything is happening fast, but you really need to focus on this." And without waiting for his reply, she pushed open the door to the kitchen and pulled him into the room.

He was met with a flurry of chaos, and he blinked several times, trying to grasp hold of what was happening before him. Several cooks were moving back and forth, others shouting orders or arguing with each other, lifting their voices to be heard over the melee. He caught sight of the fickle tree sprite, Daphne, moving back and forth before a large counter space, and two other cooks he recognized, the Badger Strongclaw and the Monkey Flisk, quibbling about something with animated gestures.

And then the others caught sight of the two monarchs, and everything came to screeching halt.

"Your Majesty!" Daphne trilled, floating forward with her trademark dreamy expression, "oh, may I express my joy at seeing you alive and well?"

Her comment was echoed by several others, and soon Edmund was surrounded by several Creatures who wanted their own reassurance that he was really there, standing before them.

"King Edmund! We will make this the grandest feast ever!"

"They will speak of it for ages!"

"Have you looked at the menus, Sire?"

"Do you have requests, your Majesty?"

At this point, Edmund threw a helpless look towards his amused sister, and Susan stepped in adroitly, coming to his rescue.

"Thank you, Swift," she said, addressing the Elk who was currently standing before Edmund, offering to show him all the various different food choices, "but I think my brother would prefer if we could ask him questions one at a time?"

There was an instant silence, and then Daphne asked in her lilting voice, "Have you looked at our menus, King Edmund?"

"My royal sister will be handling those arrangements," Edmund replied, inclining his head towards Susan with a grateful smile. "I have no specific requests…" He trailed off for a moment, thinking, before adding with a grimace and a guilty conscience, "except no Turkish Delight."

He saw Susan stiffen at the request, but she did not comment on it, for which he was grateful. The very thought of that particular sweet made him sick with shame, and he could not imagine having it at a feast that was supposed to celebrate him becoming king of the land he had once betrayed.

"Have you decided upon decorations?" a large Cat asked, stepping forward. "I have pulled out several different possibilities for tablecloths and napkins, King Edmund, as well as a few ideas for silver and china."

"I…" Edmund hesitated, swallowing and glancing at Susan. But she said nothing, just widened her eyes at him, indicating he needed to answer this on his own. He bit his lip, then said diffidently, "I will take a look at them?" and was rewarded with Susan's smile of approval.

"Shall we feast before or after your address?" came another question, this time form a thin and wiry satyr.

Edmund gulped. "Uh…" This time he really was at a loss for words, but Susan once again answered for him.

"After, I think," she instructed thoughtfully, and the satyr bowed his head in acceptance.

"Why all the fuss?" Edmund asked in a low voice, low enough that only Susan could hear his bewildered question. She gave him a sharp look, but he just stared blankly back, and she sighed, gesturing for him to follow her.

"Would you give us a moment, friends?" she asked politely, and the Creatures instantly withdrew, offering the two siblings some privacy. Once she was sure they would not be overheard from their corner of the kitchen, Susan turned to Edmund and asked, "Do you really not understand?"

"Understand what?" Edmund demanded hotly. "You've thrown yourself into this, and I do not understand why. But you seem so… I cannot explain it, Susan. But why do you become so engrossed in clothing and decorations? That is not even the point."

Susan lifted one eyebrow and asked, "Do you know what the point is, Edmund?"

Edmund shivered, nervous and uneasy, and answered, "I am becoming a king."

"Is that all?" Susan pressed.

"All?" Edmund echoed incredulously. "How can you say that as though it is not such a huge moment, Su? Do you expect more?"

She sighed, her expression an odd mixture of sympathy and disapproval as she replied, "Ed, these Creatures have spent their entire lives under the reign of the Witch. For them, this isn't just your coronation. For all of Narnia, this is the last, final act that will end her terror. This is their chance at freedom, renewal… a chance for a future beyond the fear and darkness that has been all they've known for one hundred years."

She glanced against at the others in the room, watching as they scurried about their tasks. Edmund followed his gaze, letting his eyes land briefly on Daphne, who was humming, and Strongclaw, who was tapping his claws against the floor in a steady rhythm. There was an excitement there, a sense of hope in their expressions that he had not really noticed before.

"The celebration… I know it is not about decorations and menus and speeches, Ed. But don't you see why I want to give all of Narnia a night they will remember forever? This is a reason to be happy, Ed, and it is a reason that for a long time, they thought would never happen."

"I see," Edmund said reluctantly, and he did. He understood, and perhaps, he thought to himself, he should have understood it earlier. But he had spent so much time thinking about how the coronation would affect him, he had not considered the others, the rest of Narnia. It was every bit as important for them as it was for him, and he could not forget that.

He looked back at Susan, frowning.

"What?" she asked with a worried look of her own.

"You've changed," he said simply. Before Narnia, Susan still had the same mothering tendencies, but they were often misguided or ruined by her temper and her impatience for the faults of others. Her heart had always been in the right place, her action usually done for the right reasons, but… This Susan was different, stronger, more noble. More patient, more understanding.

More gentle.

Susan tilted her head to the side, a look of confusion momentarily flickering through her eyes, before she replied, "We've all changed."

Edmund sighed. "True," he agreed.

Susan smiled and folded her arms across her chest, stepping around him and nodding towards the large Cat who was pacing back and forth on the other side of the room. "Now, you promised Damascus that you would look at table cloths and other decorations. I need to speak to a few of the cooks about the menu, will you please come and find me when you are done and let me know what you have decided?"

The Cat, Damascus, came forward, and just like that Edmund found himself pulled away from his sister, and caught in a sudden storm of questions about colors and designs.

* * *

Lucy watched with a curious gaze as Peter continued to pace back and forth across the floor of his room. She had come to speak to him, and yet all thoughts had flown from her mind at the sight of his conflicted and furious expression, and now she felt just the tiniest bit of dread twisting in the pit of her stomach.

"Peter?" she asked finally, when she could bear the silence no longer, "what's wrong?"

He turned towards her, eyes blazing. "Everything, Lucy!" he hissed, and though she knew his anger was not directed at her, she could not help but flinch at the words. Peter looked immediately apologetic, and turned away, running a hand through his hair with a weary sigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to yell."

She stepped further into the room, letting the door shut firmly behind her. Through the partially open window, she could see the sun sinking slowly, bringing about the close of yet another day.

"What's wrong?" she asked again, because she could tell by the pain in her brother's voice that this was not a problem that would simply disappear on its own. "Give me specifics, Peter."

"Edmund," Peter said, his tone thick with the remnants of betrayal, "told me he had heard Aslan's voice while in the Village. More than once…"

Lucy blinked, not understanding the problem. Tentatively, she asked, "Isn't that good? Doesn't that mean that… that… that Aslan and Edmund are connected. That He had always…"

"Always what, Lu?" Peter cut in sharply. He still was not looking at her, but she could practically feel the rage in his tone, the anger that simmered in the air around him. "That He was always looking out for Edmund? That He always knew where Edmund was?"

Lucy accepted this in silence, trying her best to pull apart the words and dissect the meaning. "It might…" she ventured a little hesitantly. "I… I don't know, Peter. Is that… is that why you're so mad?"

This time he did look at her, and his gaze was filled with such loathing. "Of course," he snarled, biting off the words. "Why are you not mad? Aslan knew where Edmund was all along! He knew that Edmund was alive."

Lucy nodded silently, feeling her own sense of betrayal at the words. It was true, she reasoned, and the only explanation for what Edmund had apparently experienced. And yet… hadn't they known that all along? Peter might have wanted to ignore the truth, and Susan probably was far too busy worrying about other things to think of this, but Lucy had long since accepted the fact that there was very little Aslan did not know.

Still… when they had first received news of Edmund's supposed death, Aslan had been just as distraught as the others in the camp. The Great Lion had truly believed that Edmund was dead. So if he had learned of Edmund's presence in the distant mountains, it must have been later, much later.

"He learned it later," she said finally, "after the battle. He must have, Peter. You remember what He was like when we were brought information about Edmund's… death. Aslan didn't know then."

"What does it matter?" Peter demanded harshly. "The details are not important. Aslan knew. Who cares when He learned the truth.? He knew, and He did not tell us. He let us suffer, He let us believe our brother was dead."

"But Edmund isn't dead," Lucy countered logically, "and he is back with us now. Don't you think Aslan had some part to play in all that?"

"So you just forgive Him?" Peter asked angrily. "None of the pain of the past years matters to you?"

Lucy hesitated before answering, unsure of how to best respond to her brother's wrath. Finally, she said, "I doubt it was Aslan's intention to cause pain. It was obviously a side-effect He could not avoid."

"A side-effect?" Peter sneered, and his words were so filled with bitterness that for a moment, she no longer recognized her brother. It was as though he had changed before her very eyes, morphed into someone different, someone she could not understand.

"Peter…"

"No, Lucy. Saying that it was a side-effect, that it was somehow alright…" He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her and walking slowly to the window to watch the setting sun. "It wasn't alright. It _isn't_ alright. Edmund is our brother, and Aslan let us believe that he was dead."

"Have you spoken to Aslan about this?" Lucy asked tentatively, taking a few steps towards her brother. She stopped, then, and waged a brief inner struggle with herself, wondering if she should reach out to hug Peter or not. The cautious side won eventually, and she let the distance continue to lie between them as she waited for his answer.

"There is little He could say that would interest me," Peter replied coldly.

"But perhaps there are things _you_ could say that would interest _Him_."

Peter did not answer, and he did not turn to face her, so she was left in doubt as to what he was thinking, unable to read his expression when his face was averted. She sighed, and wished there was something else she could say, something that could heal the fury in her brother's heart.

"Why aren't you more upset about this?" Peter asked finally.

It was a fair question, Lucy decided, and one she was not entirely sure she could answer in any coherent fashion. But Peter was her brother, and he deserved some sort of response from her, and so she stammered her reply, struggling to form her confused thoughts into words.

"I am upset, Peter. And I won't… I won't pretend to… to not feel some… betrayal. But… I also don't pretend to understand Aslan's actions, to always know what He is doing and why. How can I? He is… He is _Aslan_, and I am just… me."

She turned away from him, walking over to one of the chairs near the opposite wall, and sank into it. Peter slowly faced her, his expression still filled with rage, but with a sense of weariness as well.

"It does… hurt. If I think about it, if I really think about what we went through…" She chewed her lip for a moment, staring unfocusedly forward, remembering the past, and all that they had gone through, all that they had suffered. "When I think about it, I _am_ angry at Aslan."

The words came out harsher than she had intended, underlined with a steely sort of fury that was only just contained within her shaking voice.

"But…" she continued softly, gently, "Edmund is back. And I am tired of hurting. I am tired of being in pain, I am tired of wondering why things had to happen a certain why, I am tired of being angry. Edmund is _back_."

Peter shook his head. "You've always had far more faith than I have, Lucy. And I don't know if I can let go of my anger as easily as you let go of yours."

She looked at him, holding his gaze. "Can you at least try? For all our sakes, and for Edmund's especially?"

He shrugged, half-defiant, half-resigned. "What good will it do if I try and fail?"

"Then talk to Aslan," she urged, "even if you do not care what He says in response. Talk to Him… He cares about us, about you. And He'd want to know how you feel. I am sure of that."

Again, Peter seemed only partially convinced. "Maybe, Lu," he murmured, "but I am not as convinced as you are."

* * *

Veltra stretched slowly, feeling his tight muscles pull and twist as he moved. The sun had set and night had come, and he was, once again, wandering slowly around the edges of the Cair, watching the moon reflected in the ripples of waves that spread out over the ocean.

Edmund had not come to find him. Edmund did not need him. Not now, not anymore. Not in the way he had needed him before.

"I don't want him to look at me with disgust," Veltra whispered, as though needing to justify his actions to the wind. "I don't want him to think of me the way the others do. I don't want…" He sighed, and pawed at the ground, creating fresh tracks in the soft dirt.

The scent wafted easily towards him, lingering on the night breeze, and he turned slowly, his eyes narrowing so that he could peer through the dim light of the stars above.

The Animal that moved towards him blended into the night, the sleek black fur almost indistinguishable from the surroundings. Only the eyes stood out, oval-shaped and unblinking.

Veltra bit back the snarl that rose in his throat as he greeted the Panther, "Hello, Shadow."

"Wolf," Shadow answered, his tone a mixture between a dangerous purr and a growl.

The animosity that had existed between the two when they had first met in the mountains had not lessoned any, despite the fact that the two had barely spoken since then. But the Panther's obvious hatred of all reminders of the Witch's reign would continue to include Veltra, no matter the fact that the Wolf had more than proven his devotion to Edmund in the battles against the Fell Beast Army.

"What are you doing?" Shadow asked, his head swinging back and forth as he looked around.

Veltra's hackles rose as he answered defensively, "I am not plotting an attack on the Cair, if that is what you are worried about. You can trust, Panther, that there are no Fell Beasts here."

Shadow looked back at him, some unreadable emotion flickered through the depths of those tawny eyes, before replying, "I was actually looking for King Edmund. I assumed you would be with him. You have not seen him since the battle, I believe, and now that the planning for the Coronation is mostly in place, at least for today…"

"Edmund is not here," Veltra said quietly.

"Ah…" The Panther lapsed into silence for a moment, then said, "Is it true, then? Are you returning to the mountains soon, Wolf?"

Veltra snorted, not at all surprised that the news would have travelled so quickly. Although, he reflected, it had not yet reached Edmund. Or, if it had, Edmund had not seen the need to come down and speak to him, to ask him why…

No. He pushed that thought away. Of course Edmund would have come to find him, had he known that the Wolf was considering leaving. The dark and treacherous thoughts were just the projection of his own fears, of what might happen should Edmund see the bloodlust that Veltra had felt, should the young king become disgusted by his friend…

And that would not happen. Veltra would not let it.

"I am considering it," Veltra snapped. "I suppose that makes you happy."

"Indeed." Again, a pause, then, "And what does King Edmund say to that?"

Veltra glared mutinously at the Panther and did not answer.

Shadow sighed and said, "I will leave you in peace, then, Wolf. I must continue my patrol of the outside of the Cair."

"Do you expect another attack?" Veltra asked, instantly concerned.

"Hardly," Shadow replied. "The Fell Beast Army is gone. But we have just now managed to restore peace and harmony to Narnia, and I will not take chances with that. It is my duty to protect the Kings and Queens, and I will do that."

Veltra shrugged as best a Wolf could and said coolly, "Do not let me keep you from your responsibilities, then. I would say I may see you around, but if I leave soon…"

"Before the Coronation?' Shadow asked with some surprise and quite a bit of distaste. "You won't even stay for that? Do you think running with your tail between your legs will help you?"

Veltra hissed his response, "I know what you think of me. Wolves are evil, right, and we all must support _Her_. No need for the constant reminders, _Panther_, because I certainly will not forget."

Shadow gave him a long look, then said, "You are right about many things, Veltra. I do not like you. And perhaps I never will. You are a Wolf, your kind symbolizes all that I despise about Fell Beasts. I think of you, and I think of many attributes – evil, untrustworthy, deceitful. But until this moment, I never thought of you as a coward."

He padded silently away, leaving a very troubled Wolf behind to mull over his conflicting thoughts.

* * *

"King Edmund, King Edmund, King Edmund! Are you going on an adventure? Can I come this time? Please, pleas, please?"

Edmund turned towards the high-pitched squeak and smiled fondly at the bundle of orange fur that tumbled around his ankles. The orange fur was soon joined by a bundle of pure black fur, and the two collided with each other, both falling backwards. But the orange fur was back up almost instantly, continuing to run about as two green eyes focused on Edmund.

"Friends of yours?" Peter murmured under his breath.

The sun had risen on a new day, and Peter and Edmund had decided to stroll through the Cair, greeting the other Animals. Susan had pressured them to do it, to introduce Edmund to as many of their subjects as possible since everyone was so eager to see him, and to once again reassure themselves that he was alive and safe.

"Hello, Sunspot," Edmund said, reaching down and patting the Kitten on the head. "And this must be your brother…" He hesitated, trying to remember what the Kitten had told him about his siblings, before supplying, "Coal, is it?"

Coal, the pure black Kitten, nodded eagerly. "Are you going on an adventure, King Edmund? Can we come, too? Please? Please, please, please? Sunspot and I can be brave. We can, we can!"

"We're not going on any adventures right now," Peter said, answering for his brother. He couldn't quite summon the power to offer the two Kittens a smile, though he knew he should. But his anger from the previous night, and from the revelation of Aslan's knowledge, had not faded. He was not sure it ever would.

"Oh…" Sunspot looked crestfallen, but then he perked up and asked, "Can you play? Can you play with us, King Edmund and King Peter?"

"Maybe later," Edmund promised, before whispering to Peter, "Do kings get to play?"

"I'm sure you can find the time," Peter promised.

"Later soon, or later not-soon?" Sunspot pressed, apparently determined to get a concrete promise from the two kings.

Peter watched Edmund, watched the way his brother's face seemed to relax slightly in the presence of the two little Kittens. The younger brother was smiling, actually smiling, and that was something Peter found he could be grateful for, despite all his anger.

"Later soon," Edmund promised. "But probably not until after the Coronation."

"The Coronation, the Coronation! The Coronation!" Coal chanted, obviously intrigued by the notion of this upcoming celebration. "Is it going to be fun, King Edmund? Is it? Is it?"

It seemed, Peter reflected to himself, that the two Kittens enjoyed repeating everything over and over and over.

"Of course it is going to be fun!" Sunspot chimed in before Edmund could answer. "That's what Dad says! Lots and lots of fun! And exciting, too! Because then King Edmund is going to be _really_ King Edmund, and everything is going to be okay again!"

Peter slanted another quick look at his brother and saw the way Edmund's eyes narrowed slightly, how his jaw stiffened, both signs of nervousness. It was quite clear that he was not anywhere close to ready for this. But, as Peter well knew, there was nothing anyone could say to make him ready. The other three siblings certainly had not felt ready to shoulder the responsibility of being royalty of Narnia when they had been crowned, either.

"Is Aslan going to be there?" Coal asked suddenly. "I've never seen Aslan. Never, never, but I want to!"

Peter bit his tongue to keep from uttering whatever harsh remark automatically made its way to his lips, and Edmund answered, "Yes, He will."

"Oh…" Sunspot and Coal both looked awestruck at that revelation.

Then Coal said, "Dad says Aslan is amazing. Is He amazing? What is He like? He's big, isn't He? A Great Lion!"

"Yes," Edmund said simply. "He is Great."

"Are you nervous?" Sunspot asked, resuming his tumbling about Edmund's feet, weaving in and out of the two kings' legs.

"Yes," Edmund answered honestly, and Peter knew it was because he couldn't think of any reason to lie about that.

Coal seemed content to stay in one place while his brother roamed about, and sitting on his hind legs, he said, "I'd be nervous, too, I think."

"I wouldn't!" Sunspot retorted, pausing to look at his brother. "Because I'm very brave!" After the words had left his mouth, however, Sunspot seemed to realize that he had inadvertently insulted Edmund, and his eyes widened comically. "Oh, oh! But you are very brave, also, King Edmund," he rushed to say.

"Sometimes, you can be brave and nervous," Coal said thoughtfully. "Dad says that a lot, when he goes out to fight. That he is nervous. But he is brave, also. He has to be brave, because he's Dad!"

Peter couldn't help but chuckle at that logic.

"Uh huh," Sunspot agreed happily. "Because, my mother says that everyone deals with things different. And some can accept it easier than others, and so they are less nervous. And some don't like accepting bad things, and so they get very, very nervous. Like I do when I'm sick and I have to see a Healer. Because I don't like Healers. But my mother says that they are important, and so I have to go, because if I don't, everything will be worse. See, that way I can be scared, but still brave. She says it is better to face things on head. Or head on…" He looked puzzled, and trailed off, trying to figure out which order of words was the correct one.

Peter turned away, and his gaze fell on Lucy, who had silently joined them at some point during the conversation. She was standing a little ways away, half-hidden by the shadows of the interlacing trees branches above her, an amused smile gracing her lips.

She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"And why would we want to be sick forever?" Coal added enthusiastically. "That's what our mother says. So it gets worse, but then it gets better. And if you could make things better, why wouldn't you? Why would you want to be upset or hurt or in pain or angry forever?"

"Uh huh, uh huh," Sunspot agreed. "And it all gets better eventually. Because Dad says the only way that you can go is forward." Then he ran straight into Edmund's legs and tumbled over, looking a little dazed. "Ooh…"

Lucy walked slowly over to join them, her gaze never leaving Peter's face, and a silence fell over the group, a silence that only the eldest and youngest Pevensie really understood.

After a moment, Sunspot asked, "Can you play with us right after the Coronation? Please, King Edmund? Please? And we can go on adventures, lots and lots and lots of adventures! And we can be brave." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Scared _and_ brave."

* * *

Susan's planning for the Coronation continues, while Peter makes a few secret plans of his own, and Veltra finally talks to Edmund in _Chapter Twenty-Six: Love Me Still_.


	27. Love Me Still

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Susan's planning for the Coronation continues, while Peter makes a few secret plans of his own, and Veltra finally talks to Edmund.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six: Love Me Still

_Here is my hand for you to hold.  
Here is the part of me that they have not sold.  
I've wandered far I've had my fill.  
I need you now, do you love me still?_

_-Chaka Khan, "Love Me Still"_

"You know, you really could take a break for a few minutes, Su," Lucy said pointedly as she stepped through the doorway into the large banquet hall. "Edmund has been home for nearly three days now, and all you do is plan…"

Susan turned to smile at her sister, but it was forced and perhaps somewhat painful. "The sooner we finish the planning," she said quietly, letting her gaze wander around the decorated room, "the sooner we can all get on with our lives."

Lucy nodded slowly, although it did not look like she believed what her sister was saying. After a moment, she asked quietly, "Have you spoken to Peter lately?"

Susan considered this, head tilted to the side. "Not really," she admitted after a moment. Instantly, concerned flared in her eyes. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, no…" Lucy was quick to reassure her older sister. "It's just… he's so angry. At Aslan. I'm worried about him, Susan. I'm worried…" She trailed off and did not put her fear into words, but Susan understood it al the same.

Still, there was little the older of the two sisters could think to say. Contrary to what either of her brothers most likely thought, she had not thrown herself into this planning with such vigor and passion just to annoy them. Her job had always been to easily bridge the gaps between the monarchs and the rest of Narnia, to create a sense of harmony and peace throughout the recently war-torn land. She was the one who could float through court with a smile and put everyone at ease. She was the one who could make Cair Paravel more than just a home – she turned it into an emblem of all that was good in the world, of everything they were fighting to protect.

Peter could defend the Narnians when they were scared, and Lucy could make them laugh when they were sad, but it was the logistics of everything that fell to her to decide.

There was more to it than just that, however. If she was busy, she did not have to confront her own fears about the unknown future. She had seen the unease in her brother's eyes, though he tried to hide it, and she knew that there would be a few bumps on their road to happiness. She couldn't fix Edmund's fears, couldn't stop Peter's anger.

"Has he spoken to Aslan?" Susan asked finally, wondering how that particular confrontation would go.

"I don't think so," Lucy answered. "I told him to, but I don't think he's really listening to me. I can't get through to him, Su, and I don't like it. I don't like any of it…" She frowned, a pout appearing on her lips as she contemplated the situation.

There was some validity in Peter's anger, Susan understood that. For good or ill, Edmund's presence in the mountains had been kept from them, and that had lead to several long, dismal months of guilt and grief. She wanted to believe that Aslan had a reason, though her faith had long since started to find itself on shaky ground. But she had yet to muster the time and energy for anger, had yet to direct any of that anger towards the Great Lion.

It was not just the unknown future that had her worried. But as long as she kept herself busy, she would not have to face the pains of the past, either.

She looked around the dining hall. The tables were covered in the finest linen and set with the exquisite ceramic dishes Edmund had chosen. The window curtains were pulled back to reveal sparkling glass panes over looking the distant ocean. The menus had been chosen as well, and a few cooks drifted in and out of the room, frowning at the tables and pondering just how all the food would fit between the overflowing flowers spilling from their glass vases.

She had outdone herself, truly. As had the entire Cair. This Coronation would be a celebration talked about long after the day itself had passed.

"Susan," Lucy said sharply, her voice calling her sister's attention back to the conversation at hand. "Will you stop thinking about the Coronation for just one moment? We need to talk about this, about Peter."

Susan gave a slightly exasperated sigh as she faced her youngest sibling. "Lu… you can't force other people to have your faith."

"But Peter needs our help!"

"And how would you help him?" Susan countered, sounding far more annoyed than she had intended. "By telling him not to blame Aslan for this? Lucy, you _can't_ make him feel less betrayed. You _can't_ force him to accept this situation just because you want him to. These are his emotions, and he is the one who has control over them."

Lucy's eyes narrowed at those unintentionally harsh words. "Then what would you have me do? Stand aside and watch while his anger consumes him?" Susan felt a blush creep into her face at Lucy's implied accusation, and she did not answer. But that only prompted Lucy further, and the younger girl continued, "This isn't right. Edmund is back, and we shouldn't be wasting our time being unhappy and despondent."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched from the room, leaving Susan to watch her retreating figure with a frustrated sigh.

Sometimes, Susan couldn't help but feel jealous. Lucy's faith had always kept her cheerful, always filled her with hope. Even in her rare moments of doubt – and she did have those on occasion – Lucy still somehow managed to remain optimistic.

Her faith made her so beloved by all their subjects. Her bright smile could light up a room, her laughter was always infectious. When someone was upset, or in pain, or grieving, it was Lucy who could momentarily ease their burdens with a quick hug and a whisper of reassurance.

But for all her devotion to Aslan and Narnia, Lucy did have her faults. Her innocence, so charming most of the time, also kept her from truly understanding that not everyone could have her faith. And that some situations could not be healed with a hug and a few words. Sometimes, it took time and effort. Sometimes they had to start down the wrong path before ending up on the right one.

But Lucy was right about one thing. Edmund _was_ back, and that was a reason to celebrate.

* * *

The Golden Eagle ruffled his wings as he watched Peter put the last touches on the letter he was writing. The afternoon sun poured in through the open window, filling the air with the scents of cedar and pine from the neighboring woods.

"How long will it take you to reach them?" Peter asked as he rolled his parchment into a thin scroll and fastened it with a bit of string.

The Eagle considered this before he answered, "If I were to leave now and fly without pause, I could make it by sundown tomorrow."

Peter nodded. "And this would not be too much of a burden?"

"I have flown greater distances without pause, your Majesty," the Eagle answered confidently. "This will be no burden at all. And it is always an honor to serve."

Peter glanced at the scroll in his hands and said, "You will miss the Coronation, though. I am sorry for that. My sister informs me that it will be quite the spectacle."

"The Queen Susan's plans are always impressive," the Eagle answered, "and I will be sorry to miss the crowning of King Edmund. But I understand the necessity of this… mission. Please do not worry yourself overly much on my account, King Peter. I am always happy to do all I can to help Narnia, and you."

"Thank you," Peter said with a smile. "And you understand, I want this kept a secret? No one can know."

The Eagle answered with his own grin, or, at least, what looked to be the equivalent of a grin. He clacked his beak together once, and said, "Your secret is safe with me, your Majesty."

* * *

Edmund sat down next to the Wolf and gazed out at the ocean. It was by far the most spectacular part about the land around the Cair, and it constantly drew his attention. The way the sun reflected off the water, the way the clear blue of the sky seemed to fade into the misty blue-green of the ocean at the distant horizon line, and the smell of sea salt and grass that mixed together in the cool air…

He remembered oceans from England. Somehow, he did not think they were ever quite as beautiful, or as magical, as this.

Veltra had his eyes closed, but Edmund knew the Wolf was not sleeping.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you earlier," he said, running a hand through his hair. Gray eyes stared out at the sea for a moment before turning to look at the Wolf. "Everything has been so…" He didn't even know how to finish that statement, couldn't put into words how strange his life had suddenly become.

Veltra had opened his eyes and was staring at Edmund, something unreadable in his gaze. "You recovered your memory," he said finally, his voice a low growl.

Edmund nodded wordlessly.

"How… how is that?"

Edmund smiled slightly at the question, noting the way Veltra had gone straight to the point. No incessant chatter about whatever small details he might have remembered, no awkward comments about the challenges ahead. Just the real question, blunt and straightforward.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Odd. Different. Sometimes it feels as though there are two of me, and I don't really know which one I actually am." He looked at the Wolf, but Veltra was staring out at the ocean, his eyes fixed on some distant point. "I am sorry…"

"I understand," Veltra answered.

Edmund somehow doubted that. He should not have forgotten about Veltra as completely as he did. But in the sudden rush of confusion that had greeted him as he awoke from the White Witch's plans, he had not thought much about the Wolf besides his initial concern for his friend's safety.

"Veltra," Edmund ventured, "I…" He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, but he didn't like the awkward tension that had fallen. He did not like the fact that something seemed to be stopping him from having an honest conversation with his closest friend.

The Wolf rose slowly to his feet, stretching. "I hear your sister has created quite the Coronation."

"Yes. Susan pulled me into some of the planning, but I escaped relatively unscathed," Edmund quipped with a sarcastic grin. He rolled his eyes and watched curiously as something flickered in Veltra's expression.

Jadis' tricks had turned his life upside-down, thrown him into a world of conflict and bewilderment, forced him to walk a thin line between his two different identities. But staring at Veltra, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she'd somehow managed to hurt him as well.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Veltra answered curtly.

It was odd, Edmund reflected abruptly, that Veltra had not come to find him after the battle. It had not really occurred to him before, but he knew the Wolf was stubborn, and in any other circumstance would have shoved his way past whatever guards Peter set around Edmund and demanded an audience.

Edmund swallowed back his retort and looked down at his hands. His palms were calloused by hard work in the Village. Peter's hands, he knew, where calloused as well, by fighting, wielding a sword. Susan and Lucy both had perfectly soft and smooth hands, untouched by physical labor.

"I'm planning on going back to the Village soon."

Whatever Edmund had expected to hear, that was not it. He twisted sharply to look at Veltra, jaw dropping. "I… when?" he stammered, unsure what else to say.

"Soon," Veltra answered vaguely, sitting back on his haunches. "I haven't quite figured out the details yet. Probably a day or two after the Coronation."

Edmund nodded uneasily. "But… why? Why do you want to leave?" he asked, wishing he didn't sound quite so hurt. But his voice shook as he asked the question, and his words got stuck in his throat.

Veltra tilted his head to the side and regarded Edmund. "You remember. You don't need me here anymore. And the Village… it _is_ my home."

"But… but I… I do need you," Edmund countered, his chest constricting tightly around his heart, leaving him lightheaded and dizzy. "You can't just…"

He remembered Peter, Susan, and Lucy. He remembered the past. That should have been enough to anchor him to this new life, to guide him through what lay ahead. His siblings could help him with almost anything, and no longer would he feel quite so bewildered by being royalty.

There were problems, of course, but he was starting to believe that they could be overcome, that they could rebuild the family he wanted, the relationship Peter had imagined.

But he still needed Veltra. He still needed that tie to his life in the Village, he still needed his best friend.

And yet… if Veltra really wanted to return to the Village, who was Edmund to stop him? He had come this far, offering his friendship and his guidance because Edmund hadn't remembered anything or anyone else. Now that Veltra had fulfilled those responsibilities, how could Edmund really ask him to stay? The Wolf was right – the Village was his real home.

"No, Edmund, you don't," Veltra countered. "You have a family. King Peter obvious loves you, as do the Queens Susan and Lucy. And you have many Animals and Creatures who are more than happy to help you with anything you want."

Edmund bit his lip. "You're my family, too."

"Edmund…"

"If you want to leave, I won't stop you. But I don't understand…"

"No… I don't suppose you could," Veltra murmured softly, under his breath.

But Edmund caught the words, and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. The confusion only grew as he realized with a start, "This isn't about me. It's about you." But that didn't make sense, because while it was growing more and more apparent that Veltra did not actually want to leave, it was equally obvious that the Wolf felt as though he had to.

Veltra did not answer. A sudden puff of wind caught some of the sand from the beach and blew it into the air around them. Edmund closed his eyes against the grains, opening them moments later in time to see that Veltra had risen to his feet again and was impatiently pawing at the ground with his claws.

"Veltra… please. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

Reluctantly, Veltra replied, "I can't."

Edmund blinked. "But… why not?"

"Because."

"Just because?"

"Yes."

"There has to be more of a reason than that."

With a snort of exasperation, Veltra replied, "I am trying to protect you!"

"From what?" Edmund pressed. "I've already been attacked by a phantom of the White Witch, an army of Fell Beasts, and my sister's crazy banquet planners. What else could you need to protect me from? And how are you protecting me by leaving?"

As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer, and then all he could really do was gape at Veltra uncomprehendingly.

"Wait… you're trying to protect me from… yourself?"

"You're different," Veltra commented, not answering the question. "Still you but… different."

"I have two different identities now," Edmund replied with a shrug. "And stop evading the question. We're talking about you, not me." He crawled to his feet, shaking his head slightly as he started walking along the beach, as Veltra fell into step beside him.

"I am angry," Veltra admitted slowly. Edmund opened his mouth to say something, but the Wolf cut him off, "Not just a little bit angry, Edmund. It's… all the time. It's everywhere. Everything I see, everything I smell, everything I think. It's all fire, and rage, and the desire to hurt others… It's in my blood."

He looked at Edmund, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes, something foreign and dark. Edmund flinched instinctively at what he saw, but did not look away from the bloodlust.

"You are a Wolf," he said delicately. "I guess… well, that is not unexpected. It's your biology."

Veltra stopped walking and turned fully towards Edmund. "And other Wolves are used to it. They grow up fighting, always striving for more control. Killing. I am not… I do not know how to handle this. These feelings. They threaten to overwhelm everything, and I've seen the way the others look at me. With… disgust. Not just the generic disgust that all Narnians seem to have for Wolves. This is… they look into my eyes and… they are afraid as well." He paused, then said, "I don't ever want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not. I never could be," Edmund argued.

"You don't know that," Veltra retorted.

Edmund hesitated before replying, knowing that he could not lie to Veltra now, not when there was so much at risk. "I guess I don't," he said reluctantly. "I can't tell you what will happen in the future. But I do know that I am not afraid of you now."

"Perhaps you should be."

"Perhaps. But… I am not. And I'll take my chances with the future."

"It isn't that simple." Veltra started walking again.

Edmund smiled faintly. "Neither is finding out you are actually a King and have three siblings who thought you were dead. Or that you had betrayed Narnia and Jadis was out for your blood."

Veltra let out a bark of laughter. "No… I guess not."

"We're both lost and confused," Edmund said softly, "but I'd rather be lost and confused with you, then lost and confused on my own."

* * *

Peter looked up at the sound of a gentle knock on the door to his room. Before he could answer, the door swung open, telling him that it was one of his siblings. Who else would knock, and then not bother waiting for him to reply?

Sure enough, Susan stepped into the room. She gave him a slight smile, but when he looked closely at her, he could see the lines of exhaustion on her face and the tinge of worry in her gaze.

"How is the planning coming along?" Peter asked with a bemused smile.

"Perfectly," she replied, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "That is not what I wished to talk to you about, though."

Concern momentarily flared, but Peter forced it down, reasoning that if anything bad had happened, Susan would not look so calm. "Is something wrong?" he asked tentatively, not entirely sure he wanted the answer. Even if it was nothing big… he did not have the patience for even small problems.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Susan answered. She took a seat in one of the armchairs. "Lucy is worried about you."

Peter leaned against his desk with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes reflecting stormy annoyance. "Is she?" he asked, his tone mild. "Did she say why she was worried? I can't imagine I've done anything to give her reason to feel that way."

Susan rolled her eyes at him and replied sharply, "If you do not want to talk to me about this, then don't. But do not lie to my face, Peter, and do not pretend you do not know exactly why she is worried."

The admonishment in her tone was enough to prevent Peter from whatever sharp retort he would have given. Still, he did not like the fact that Lucy and Susan had been talking about him in this way, and was even less pleased by Susan's presence now. His anger at Aslan had not faded, but he doubted he could convince Susan of the logic behind his emotions.

She was far too busy planning for the Coronation. He wondered, vaguely, if she realized that she was doing all this work to avoid having to deal with the past or future. But she could distract herself as much as she wanted, and it would do no good. Sooner or later, they would all have to face the consequences of what had happened, and attempt somehow to move forward together.

"Have you even spoken to Aslan? Does He know how you feel?"

Peter snorted at the question. "He's Aslan, Su. There is very little He does not know. That seems to be the problem, doesn't it?"

"You need to talk to Him."

"I don't want…"

"This isn't about you," Susan interrupted bluntly. "This is about the four of us. About Narnia. Edmund is going to be crowned king soon. He is going to be here, with us, for good. We have a chance to become a real family again. I know you feel betrayed, I know you are furious. And maybe speaking to Aslan will do nothing at all, maybe you will walk away from Him just as angry as you are now. But maybe you won't, Peter. Maybe this will help you. Maybe it will help all of us."

Peter lowered his gaze, his throat going dry, preventing him from speaking. Not that there was much he could have said anyway, no real way to combat the truth in her words.

"You owe it to the three of us to at least try, Peter," Susan murmured softly. "You know how hard Edmund is trying to make this all work, to be your brother again. You've seen how difficult it is for him, how terrified he is, how bewildered and adrift he feels. But he is _trying_. You owe it to him to do the same."

* * *

Peter finally talks to Aslan, and all of Narnia celebrates at the Coronation as Edmund is crowned King in _Chapter Twenty-Seven: Just the Way You Are._


	28. Just the Way You Are

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This is the final chapter of the story. There will be on more after it – an epilogue of sorts that takes place a few weeks after this ends.

Summary: Peter finally talks to Aslan, and all of Narnia celebrates at the Coronation as Edmund is crowned King.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Just the Way You Are

_I need to know that you will always be  
That same old someone that I knew.  
What will it take 'till you believe in me,  
The way that I believe in you?_

_-Billy Joel, "Just the Way You Are"_

It should not have surprised Peter that the exact moment he decided to search for Aslan, he found the Great Lion waiting for him instead. Aslan was standing in the center of one of the pavilions that dotted the landscape around Cair Paravel, and Peter, walking back from an early morning stroll, paused in his tracks.

He had needed to clear his head, and had hoped that fresh air and a brisk walk might help that happen. It had done little to ease his frustration at the entire situation, but it had forced him to accept that he needed to speak to Aslan.

And here the Great Lion stood.

He turned his steps towards the pavilion, slowly climbing the stone stairs. The early morning dew collected in small droplets along the railings, reflecting the sunbeams, refracting the white light into a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors.

"The Coronation is today," Peter said, pausing before Aslan.

"Yes," Aslan agreed. "All of Narnia celebrates." He was quiet for a moment, regarding Peter with an unreadable gaze. Then He said, "It is not good to enter this new era with anger or resentment in your heart, Peter."

A dark chuckle rose in Peter's throat, but he held it back. It took him a moment to answer, and then finally he said, "I know." But the resentment in his heart would not easily fade, and he stared hard at Aslan, wishing he had some kind of answer for this feeling.

"And yet you hold on to your anger," Aslan remarked. He nodded His head towards the benches that lined edge of the pavilion. "Sit, Son of Adam," He ordered gently. "Let us talk."

Peter sat, and Aslan settled Himself beside the young king. He did not speak, and so Peter frowned and looked down at his interlocked fingers, knowing he would need to be the first to break the silence.

"Why couldn't You have told us?"

Aslan sighed. "Destinies are never simple, Peter. And there is no magic in this world, in any world, that exists solely for your benefit."

"I understand that," Peter muttered sourly, "but it was far more than just my destiny. All of Narnia was affected by it. We needed Edmund and You let us believe he was dead."

"I believed your brother was dead for a time as well," Aslan countered pointedly. "I grieved for him… for all that was lost when he was taken from us. You were not alone in your grief then."

"But when You discovered the truth…" Peter started, and then stopped. Aslan's dark brown eyes focused on him, and there was no reproach, no anger, just patience in His gaze. "Why could You not tell us then? What stopped You? There is no greater power…"

"Ah, but there is," Aslan interjected swiftly. "Peter, there is a deep magic more powerful than any of us. It defines right from wrong, it gives courage to those who look for it, it holds the continual promise that the sun _will_ rise tomorrow. It oversees all our destinies. Yours, mine… and your brother's."

"And this magic… it made Edmund's destiny to be separated from us?" Peter asked skeptically, unable to accept that explanation. "What good would that do?"

"Not all destinies bring joy to those involved," Aslan replied. "If I had the ability to save every Animal or Creature, I would. But it is not possible. Wars come, Peter, and they bring pain and suffering. Surely you have learned that by now."

"But the wars we fight are for the good or Narnia," Peter countered. "For the greater good, we are willing to sacrifice much."

"Indeed. And perhaps a greater good will come from this," Aslan agreed. "But I do not tell the future, nor can I tell you any tale but your own. Edmund's will unfold in time." The Lion looked out of the pavilion at the woods, towards the direction of the Cair. "He has made good friends and strong alliances. He brings to Cair Paravel and understanding of things that are beyond the scope of the court and the army. His time in the Village has given him much, and it will be… interesting… to see how his story develops."

Peter nodded, rubbing the back of his head absently. This was not the answer he wanted, it was all vague words with nothing concrete, nothing to help make sense of the past. He wanted an explanation, for good or ill, just something that acknowledged the pain that they had all endured. He wanted something that would bring a sense of closure, of peace.

Aslan murmured, "Peace comes from within. It is not something that I can give you."

Peter nodded.

"Tell Me, Peter, do you wish to spend the rest of your life wishing you could change the past? It does no good to dwell on what can never be. Not if you forget the present and the future that you have been given."

"I try to move forward," Peter whispered, "but I… I can't. I do not want to be angry, but…" It was hard to put into words what it felt like, how it was as though he was trapped in quicksand while the rest of the world spun around him. Lucy could let go, Susan could forget what she wanted, but he was stuck. Every mention of Aslan filled him with a sense of loss and loneliness.

It tightened in his chest, wrapping around his heart. The feeling that he had somehow been left alone, abandoned. Where had Aslan been? Why had He not come when he was needed, why had He left them in silence and solitude? Those questions were the source of his resentment, his bitterness.

"Did you not have Susan and Lucy? All of Cair Paravel?" Aslan asked. "Did your brother not have Dar, Sera, Nasada? Veltra? An entire village? And though you may not always see or feel My presence, you may rest assured, I am there." He pressed his nose against Peter's forehead. "You were never alone, Son of Adam. And neither was your brother. Not even for a single moment."

And slowly, ever so slowly, the tightness around Peter's chest began to loosen, to fade.

* * *

"I can't do this," Edmund announced as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. "I… just… look at me! I look ridiculous."

Veltra narrowed his eyes as he gazed at his friend. Edmund was dressed in light silk. The shirt was a silver-gray, just slightly lighter than his eyes, and bunched together in the front around an elegantly-made gold pendant that rested at his throat. His hair had been washed and Susan had attacked it with such ferocity that she'd nearly broken the comb getting it to lie flat in all the right ways.

"Yes," Veltra agreed decisively, "you do look ridiculous."

Blushing furiously, Edmund spun to face the Wolf. "You are not helping, Veltra," he snapped, rolling his eyes.

The Wolf gave a bark of laughter. "Will you relax, Edmund? It is just a Coronation."

"_Just_ a Coronation?" Edmund echoed, sputtering. He looked back at the mirror, at the person who was nearly unrecognizable beneath all the finery. "They expect me to give a speech. To… to be… _kingly_." He chewed his bottom lip nervously, then muttered with even more conviction, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," Veltra argued, pawing slowly towards Edmund. "Just breathe. They all adore you anyway, you could comment on the weather and you would receive wild applause."

Edmund raised an eyebrow as he thought over the Wolf's words. Lucy had said the same thing to him once, back before this all started. When he had been so worried about needing to speak to the cooks, and she'd told him that no one would be listening to anything he had to say, anyway.

Somehow, he thought this might be different. It was the Coronation, after all, and as Susan had so pointedly reminded him, it wasn't entirely about his own ascension to the throne. It was about all of Narnia, about being free from the lingering chill of the White Witch's influence.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"Of what?" Veltra asked. "What is there here that could harm you?"

Edmund fought back the sudden urge to laugh. It was true, most of his demons – internal and external – had already been dealt with over the past few days. There was no army of Fell Beasts to attack, no Jadis inside his head to mock him, no lost memories to torment him by their absence. But still… the unease settled into a firm ball in the pit of his stomach, refusing to leave him alone.

"I… I cannot… I just… I mean… look at me!" he stammered, gesturing with one hand towards his reflection.

Smirking, Veltra remarked sarcastically, "I will miss your way with words."

Edmund's expression fell at that reminder. He turned away from the mirror with a heavy sigh and crossed to the chair near the door, sinking onto the cushions. "How long will you be gone?"

It took Veltra a moment to answer, and then he said, "I don't know."

"When do you leave?" Edmund pressed, wanting as many details as possible, wanting to know everything he could to be prepared for, once again, being left behind by his family.

"I don't know. When will you be alright with my leaving?" Veltra answered softly.

He had come to the decision the night before, and had been reluctant to tell Edmund, to add another layer of concern for his already overly-worried friend. It had been an odd decision, coming to him in the middle of the night, but once he had thought it through, it felt so completely right.

There were other Wolves out there, in Narnia. Wolves who, like Veltra, did not side with Jadis. Wolves who wanted nothing more than to live their lives enjoying the relative peace that had fallen since Aslan's defeat of the Witch. They did not interact much with Narnians, and perhaps that was why all Wolves were so feared, so mistrusted – because Narnians had never had the opportunity to spend substantial time with the good and kind members of the species.

And Veltra was determined to find these other Wolves.

Maybe he could convince them to come back into Narnian life, to join the rest of the land so that the prejudice against Wolves would slowly fade. Maybe he could make a difference in their lives, show them that Narnia could welcome them back, just like they had with some other other Fell Beasts who no longer sided with the Witch.

Maybe _they_ could help _him_, show him how to live with a biology he did not fully understand and a bloodlust that left him scared and uneasy.

"Edmund…" He wasn't sure exactly what to say, and the silence was heavy, and filled with tension. He felt as though he was letting down the young king, leaving him alone in this strange, almost foreign, castle.

But Edmund shook his head and said, "No, it's alright. I understand Veltra." And he did understand why this was important to his friend. "When Peter first told me that he was my brother… I did not care. I could not understand wanting any more than what I had. You… Sera, Dar, Nasada… the Village. But then… I don't know. It changed. I changed. And it was not just that I reclaimed my memories, although that was part of it. I also… I understand now, that sometimes… sometimes you need help from those who are like you. Who have been in the same situation and can really understand…"

"How terrified you are?" Veltra finished.

Edmund nodded wordlessly. He knew that he would never really be able to understand all the problems Veltra was forced to face here at Cair Paravel. The Wolf was not generally liked, but everyone seemed to adore Edmund, seemed to have so easily forgotten all the traitorous things he had done.

"Besides," he said at last, "you might have fun. It will be an adventure." As an afterthought, he added, "Sunspot will want to hear all about it."

Veltra frowned with concentration, then asked, "That little orange fuzz-ball that you were playing with earlier?"

Edmund laughed. "He's actually quite fun to talk to. Lucy loves him."

"Your sister loves everyone," Veltra countered.

"True…"

A silence, then…

"When… when will you be more or less alright with me leaving?" Veltra asked tentatively.

Edmund shrugged. "When you are ready. I can live with you gone for however long it takes," he paused, considering the Wolf for a moment, then finished, "so long as you promise you are coming back."

Veltra grinned broadly. "Always."

* * *

A moment before Edmund was to pass through the great double doors and enter the crowded throne room, Peter came to his side with a reassuring smile and a few last minute words.

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," Edmund answered honestly. "Terrified. What if… what if something goes wrong?"

"Ed, look at me," Peter instructed, and Edmund reluctantly lifted his gaze to his brother. "We are right here. Susan, Lucy, and I. We will be at your side every step of the way. You _can_ do this."

Edmund swallowed anxiously and looked down again. "I… I don't know. What if I can't? What if…" There were so many things that could go wrong, so many ways he could conceivably make a mistake, make a mess of things. The fine clothing that looked so odd on him, the lavishly decorated room that made him feel so out of place… All just reminders that he still did not really fit in here.

"You don't believe me?" Peter asked teasingly.

But Edmund was in no mood for the light words. Seriously, he answered, "I want to. Believe me, Peter, I really, _really_ want to believe you. But I just… I'm not sure I can." With a miserable shrug, he added softly, "I'm sorry."

Peter seemed to consider this in silence, before asking, "So… what exactly has you so worried?"

With a choked, ironic chuckle, Edmund answered, "What if I mess it all up? What if I… what if I can't live up to everyone's expectations? What if I am not good enough?" He looked briefly at Peter, feeling as though he was somehow letting down his brother. "You probably did not have these problems…" he muttered.

Peter laughed outright. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ed. I was every bit as terrified as you were before my coronation."

"Really?" Edmund asked, a little surprised. He had expected that Peter would have been nervous, anxious, maybe even a little worried. But frightened? Terrified? He had not thought that.

"Of course," Peter confided, blushing slightly. "Absolutely terrified. I was about to be made _King_, Ed. Susan was pretty frightened as well. Only Lucy seemed to take the entire thing in stride, and… well, she's _Lucy_…" He trailed off with a shrug, and Edmund nodded slowly.

Lucy seemed to be able to accept anything.

"So what do I do?" Edmund asked tentatively.

"You go in," Peter said, gesturing towards the doors, "with a smile on your face and your head held high. You go in, and you let Mr. Tumnus put that crown on your head. You go in, and you remember that you can trust and love all the Animals and Creatures there, just like they love and trust you."

"That simple?" Edmund whispered.

"Of course not," Peter answered honestly. "But when you get nervous or scared… take a deep breath… and just remember… Susan, Lucy, and I will be right beside you every step of the way."

* * *

"To the great western woods, I give you King Edmund the Just! Once a king of Narnia, always a king of Narnia. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens."

Aslan's voice reverberated through the hall as Mr. Tumnus leaned forward and placed the silver crown on Edmund's head. All around the newly-crowned king, applause burst into the air, punctuated by joyous shouts and cries and the steady beat of paws and hooves against the floor.

Peter watched, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face, as Edmund flushed a deep red and stared out at his subjects, at all the Narnians who had gathered to celebrate the occasion. Now was the moment that he knew Edmund most feared, when he was expected to say something to those before him, to express himself in eloquent words and with a sense of grandeur he probably did not feel.

Peter remembered that feeling, the complete and total inadequacy that settled over him, draping him heavily, before he was first required to speak. The years and experience had changed that, and he no longer felt nervous when faced with a speach.

But Edmund's flush had quickly faded, leaving his skin pale white. Gray eyes moved towards Peter, questioning, and Peter nodded his head slowly and gave an encouraging smile. By his side, Susan slid her arm into his, and Lucy, bubbly and grinning broadly as ever, bounced excitedly on her feet.

And Edmund gave his own tentative smile before he began to speak.

"In the few days since my return to Cair Paravel," Edmund said slowly, his words measured and even, "I have heard many say how blessed they feel to have the four thrones filled and the Witch's reign finally over. But I believe the blessing is, in fact, mine. I have been blessed…" He paused, glancing quickly at his siblings, before saying, "Blessed with a family far beyond what I could have possibly hoped for, blessed with a land beyond all my dreams." His gaze moved to Aslan, "Blessed to find myself home once more."

He did not speak loudly, and the room had lapsed into a silence, every Creature straining to hear his every word. Peter wondered quietly if Edmund realized just how beloved he was, just how respected he had become in the short time since his return from the Village.

"And all that I can ask for is to have the chance to bestow my own blessings on Narnia, as it has bestowed its blessings on me."

There was obviously more he had wanted to say, but somehow, the words would not come. He opened his mouth and simply stood there, silent, turning a helpless glance towards his siblings.

It was Mr. Tumnus, however, who intervened, repeating Aslan's words, "Once a king of Narnia, always a king of Narnia!"

The refrain was picked up by the rest of the crowd, repeated several times until everything dissolved into a whirlwind of laughter, music, and color. Susan was instantly whisked away to preside over the celebration, and Lucy, after giving Aslan a quick, energetic hug, moved away with Mr. Tumnus to mingle with the others. There were shouts, orders, cries, greetings, and many other words exchanged through the air, and food brought out on great trays, drinks balanced in crystal and glass goblets.

Peter paid little attention to any of it. He stared at Edmund, unaware of anything except the realization that it had happened. Edmund had been crowned. The threat of the White Witch was finally, truly over.

They had won.

"I'll have to thank Mr. Tumnus for rescuing me," Edmund said with a sheepish smile. "I… I forgot what else I had planned to say."

"You did spectacularly," Peter replied, his voice hoarse.

Embarrassed, Edmund looked down and pushed at his crown with one hand. "Does your crown itch?" he asked after a tiny pause.

Peter chuckled and nodded. "Yes."

"Feels funny, weighted on my head like this," Edmund confided.

"You'll get used to it," Peter promised. Then he looked around and said, "You know, it looks like there is a celebration happening. Perhaps we should join it?" He started to turn away, to lead Edmund from the throne towards Susan and Lucy, but Edmund's hand on his elbow stopped him.

"Peter?" There was a nervousness in Edmund's eyes, and something else. He licked his lips, and then said hesitantly, "I just… I wanted say… thank you. For everything. For being there…"

Peter wasn't sure what he was being thanked for, but it didn't really matter. Impulsively, he pulled Edmund into a hug. "Always," he promised.

* * *

The celebration continued long into the night, food and drink giving way to dancing.

Aslan had, at some point, disappeared into the night, leaving behind only a set of footprints on the sand of the beach. Peter had watched the Great Lion leave, standing on the balcony until He finally faded from sight, then turned and walked back into the hall.

He stood now near the windows, and watched silently as Edmund and Lucy danced across the ballroom floor. Lucy's skirts swirled around her feet as she twirled, her eyes filled with joy and laughter, loose strands of hair tumbling from jeweled clips and cascading down her neck and in front of her eyes. Edmund moved quickly as well, a little less sure on his feet, but smiling all the same as he did his best to keep up with the quick tempo of the music.

"Peter? What are you thinking?"

He turned, watching as Susan walked towards him. "It is all so magnificent," Peter replied, gesturing towards the crowd of Animal and Creatures spread out before them. "And everyone looks happy."

"Everyone _is_ happy," Susan answered. "But why aren't you dancing?"

Peter laughed softly at her question and extended his arm. "I suppose I should be, shouldn't I? And will you do me the honor?"

"Happily," she said, resting her hand on his arm and letting his lead her towards the dance floor. Her other hand slid to her side to lift her skirts a little bit off the floor, giving her more room to maneuver through the dance floor. Across the room, the music swelled and slowed, taking on a leisurely rhythm.

They started dancing, Peter leading with confidence of someone who had been forced into dancing many times before, and had begrudgingly allowed himself to be taught all the steps to the common dances.

As Susan followed her brother's lead, however, a slight frown marred her features. "Are _you_ happy?" she asked quietly.

Peter glanced past Susan, his gaze falling on Edmund and Lucy. Edmund was smiling as they danced, a smile that fully reached his eyes and pushed away all the darkness that had been there. A smile that was not tinged with unease or worry or anxiety or fear. A smile momentarily devoid of the guilt or shame that had plagued him since the battle with Jadis.

_You were never alone, Son of Adam. And neither was your brother. Not for even a single moment._

"Yes," Peter answered, looking back at Susan. "I'm happy."

* * *

All things come full circle, and Edmund gets a few unexpected visitors at Cair Paravel in _Epilogue: Here Comes the Rain Again._


	29. Epilogue: Here Comes the Rain Again

Title: Magic of the Deep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: All things come full circle, and Edmund gets a few unexpected visitors at Cair Paravel.

* * *

Epilogue: Here Comes the Rain Again

_Here comes the rain again,  
Falling on my head like a memory,  
Falling on my head like a new emotion…_

_- Eurythmics, "Here Comes the Rain Again"_

"It's raining," Edmund announced glumly as he sank into the seat across from Peter and stared morosely out the window. Great drops of water splashed against the clear glass, forming rivulets as they ran down towards the ground below.

"Rain is good," Lucy piped up, pushing her mug of hot chocolate back and forth between her hands. "It clears the air and waters all the trees."

"But it was so sunny the last few days," Edmund argued. "I miss the sun."

"It will come back," Peter promised with a faint smile for his brother. "It always does."

They had all settled into a fairly steady routine, and every day that routine began with breakfast. Susan insisted, and it had only taken Edmund a few days to realize that arguing with her was futile. Lucy might have been able to win over anyone with her smile, but Susan was not without tricks of her own, and her stubbornness could not be ignored.

Edmund took a bite of toast and reflected on the past three weeks since the Coronation. The time had begun to slowly heal any aching rifts that had existed between himself and his siblings, and now not a single day went by when he did not feel fortunate to have been reunited with them. Perhaps he would not have chosen such a terrifying and bewildering method of reuniting, but at least he was here now.

He missed Veltra, though. More than he would care to admit. The Wolf had barely been gone for more than seven days, and yet his absence was not easy to bear. He could not help but wonder how his friend was faring, and if he had been successful in finding the Wolves that he sought.

"Did it rain much in the Village?" Peter asked carelessly, spreading butter on his toast.

"No," Edmund answered. "Only snow." He smiled fondly at the memories of the Village, pleased that he could speak so easily about the past. His three siblings seemed to have finally accepted that it was a part of him, and no longer did comments about Dar, Sera, and Nasada bring strained looks or tears to their eyes.

But part of that, he knew, was because he had accepted that, though they were his family, the three Villagers were not, and never could be, Peter, Susan, or Lucy. They were his siblings, and they were always first and foremost in his mind.

After a moment, he asked, "Do we train in the rain?"

Peter nodded. "Of course. An enemy won't call of an attack because of the weather, and we must be prepared for anything. Oreius will expect us at the training ground soon."

Edmund wrinkled his nose, but accepted the wisdom in those words. He had started to train, a little cautiously at first. Holding a sword still felt odd, as did all the movements that Oreius insisted he practice. Sometimes he would watch Peter wield his sword and shield with such deft movement, and he could not help but be amazed. It was strange to think that, someday, he would be able to fight with the same grace and skill.

His first attempts with a sword had not gone quite as well as he had hoped…

_Grasping the heavy metal hilt in one hand, he glanced down the length of the silver blade. It was sharp, the sun reflecting off the paper-thin edges, and smooth, as though it had been polished many times._

_It was awkward in his hands._

"_Hold the sword with your right hand, Sire," Oreius instructed, "and bring your left arm in front of you." The Centaur nodded as Edmund complied and added, "Widen your stance a little more. And bring your weight forward, so you are resting on the front of your feet."_

_Edmund shifted his weight, feeling a bit ridiculous as he did so. But Oreius smiled and nodded._

"_Good. Your left arm will hold your shield, and this position will allow you freedom of movement with your sword while still protecting your body. Now… bring your sword forward in a jab, as though you mean to attack me."_

_Edmund obliged, thrusting the sword forward. But the weight of the sword through him off-balance, and ill-prepared for that change, he was unable to compensate appropriately. The heavy sword slid from his grasp and he tumbled forward, toppling onto the ground._

_There was a silence, then, as Edmund sheepishly pulled himself back to his feet, Oreius said serenely, "Perhaps we should start with some basic balance exercises, Sire."_

"I was going to go on a picnic with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver," Lucy said suddenly, her voice cutting across Edmund's thoughts. Her gaze moving quickly to the windows and then back. "But perhaps we will have tea inside instead."

"That sounds pleasant," Susan agreed.

"You should join us," Lucy invited eagerly. "It will be fun. We can have tea by the fire! Mrs. Beaver makes absolutely wonderful scones."

As the rain increased, beating harder against the thin glass, the thought of scones with clotted cream, a nice cup of tea, and a warm fire glowing in the grate was so tempting that Edmund could not keep the jealousy from passing momentarily through his eyes. Susan caught the expression and reached across the table to pat him on the hand, giving him a wink.

"Don't be so glum, Ed," she said with a grin. "Lucy and I will be thinking of you while we sip our tea."

Edmund sent her an annoyed glare as he took a large bite of toast, but Susan just laughed, and even Peter gave a bemused smile at her teasing words.

"Is Mr. Tumnus coming?" Edmund asked finally, glancing over at Lucy. "To your picnic, I mean."

Lucy shook her head. "No, he has something else he has to do this morning," she said, and Edmund, too busy looking down at the fruit on his plate, missed the conspiratorial look that passed between Lucy and Peter.

* * *

Training left Edmund wet, muddy, and tired. Still, he forced a smile, thanked Oreius, and fell into step beside Peter as they left the training ground. The rain had let up only slightly, and the sky was still covered with heavy gray clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions.

"Susan informed me that we should expect a delegation from Archenland soon," Peter said after a moment of silence. "She has already received messages from them congratulating us on your coronation."

"We are allied with Archenland," Edmund said softly, trying his best to remember the bits and pieces of the various history lessons he had received in the past few weeks. His knowledge of that land was limited, extending only to what he had learned in the Village. And as they had been cut off from the rest of the world for so long, he knew practically nothing about the current situation.

"Yes," Peter agreed. "They are good allies. There is little magic there, though."

"But it is do close to Narnia," Edmund said thoughtfully, shaking his head. "Why is there less magic?" It was the logistics of situations like these that he did not fully understand, and he thought perhaps he never would. For him, magic was everywhere, and the idea that it would not continue spreading into other lands was bewildering.

Peter shrugged. "I guess that will be a question for Silrin."

Edmund nodded, then asked, "What does having a delegation visit entail, exactly?"

Peter answered with a dry laugh, "Hard to know. Susan plans most of it. You'll have to receive them, and they'll shower you with gifts, I expect. Exchange fancy words and promises. That sort of thing."

They passed underneath the last of the gates and into the Cair itself, thankful to be out of the rain. Edmund attempted to push his soaked hair out of his eyes, but the long strands fell back into place, sticking to his pale skin. Beside him, Peter frowned as he watched the droplets of water form at the edge of his clothing and drip onto the ground. The floor was soon slick with water and muddy footprints.

Susan would not be happy.

But Edmund was far too worried about Peter's statement to think much about Susan's displeasure at their mess. "Receive them? Will I have to give another speech?" he asked, chewing his bottom lip worriedly. "It seems all I do is giving speeches."

Peter clapped him on the back. "It will be fine. You'll be fine. I promise you, it gets easier."

Edmund wrinkled his nose. "You keep saying that. It hasn't happened yet. I feel as though I am still very likely to make a fool of myself."

"You worry too much," Peter replied with a careless shrug.

Edmund looked rather disbelieving at that comment. But he accepted it in silence, not bothering to argue the point with his brother. Instead, his mind still focused almost entirely on the impending delegation with the Archenlanders, he parted ways with Peter and wandered towards his rooms to get cleaned up.

He did not see the Golden Eagle that flew past the open door behind him, did not see the way Peter turned and gave the Eagle a broad smile and quick wink.

* * *

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, really. It had happened more by accident than anything else. After bathing and changing into clean clothes, Edmund had left his room and wandered towards the library where he knew Susan and Peter would be. The morning downpour had given way to a light drizzle of afternoon rain, and the sky was still the same endless stretch of gray.

He paused at the door of the library, listening to the sound of voices.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. Really.

"…getting better, I guess. Edmund's learning quickly." That was Peter's voice, quiet and weary, but laced with pride.

"Of course he is," was the reply in Susan's distinct tone. "But what about you, Peter? How are _you_ doing?"

Edmund crept closer, holding his breath. He knew he should announce his presence and not hover outside the door, waiting to hear the conversation. But he also did not want to interrupt, not yet. Not until he at least heard Peter's answer to Susan's question.

"It's odd. I guess it shouldn't surprise me, I knew it would not be easy." There was a resigned tone to Peter's voice, as though he had long since come to terms with whatever frustrations were plaguing him.

"Very few things worth having ever come easily," Susan answered after a slight pause. "It is taking some adjusting for all of us. Edmund's presence is…" Again, a hesitation, then she started over, "Having Edmund here changes things. Changes our schedules, our routines. It is to be expected that it would be difficult to just fall into a pattern."

Edmund frowned at her words, his feelings an odd mixture of worry and relief. Worry, because it sounded as though both his older siblings felt a little wrong-footed by his being there, as though they had not yet managed to accept the changes to their lives. And relief, because it meant that he was not the only one who felt the lingering tension.

"Every now and then, he'll say something, or do something, and it is… it is so obvious that he isn't the Edmund I remember. Or the one I expected to find."

"He's been gone a long time, Peter. He's changed. We've all changed. I doubt we are the siblings he remembers."

There was the sound of soft laughter, which Edmund guessed was coming from Peter. Then he heard his brother speak with a slightly ironic tone, "True. Although he did not remember us in the beginning, so it is a slightly different set of circumstances."

The two lapsed into silence, and Edmund straightened himself, unsure as to whether he wanted to venture into the library. The conversation weighed heavily on his mind, but he did not want to confront either sibling about it quite yet. Still, could he interact with them and pretend that he had not heard anything?

But then Peter started speaking again, and Edmund found himself drawing near to the door once more.

"I see Philip spending a great deal of time with Edmund. They are growing close."

"He misses Veltra," was Susan's answer. "And Philip is a lot like the Wolf." There was the unmistakable sound of her clicking her tone against her teeth in reproach as she asked, "Did you by any chance instruct Philip to spend time with Edmund?"

It took Peter a moment to answer. "No. But I would have, if he hadn't already planned on it."

Edmund smiled faintly to himself. His brother's overprotective nature had become increasingly evident during the past few weeks, and it came as no surprise that Peter might have requested Philip to keep an eye on him had he felt it necessary. In fact, there were times when Edmund was surprised that the entire population of Cair Paravel was not following him everywhere.

"You seem to be getting along with Philip as well."

That simple statement of Susan's caught Edmund's attention. He had not missed the tension that existed between his brother and the Horse, though he did not know the cause of it. To hear Susan speak so casually of it, however, was enough to tell him that it was no secret to anyone that there was some strain in that relationship.

"Yes. We spoke, shortly after the Coronation. It was… odd."

"How so?"

It seemed Peter was picking his words rather carefully as he answered haltingly, "He apologized. He said… he had been judging me for far too long on what I had not done in the past… and he had come to see… that I was learning. He said he was sorry, and he should not… could not judge me any longer." There was a long, drawn-out silence, then Peter added, "I think he heard of my talk with Aslan."

"Ah… And how are you handling that?"

"I don't know, Su. I'm trying, I really am. I feel a little bit less angry each day, but… it's hard. Sometimes I still feel like I have lost my faith in Him. Other times, I can't really remember why I questioned Him so much."

"Do you love Him?"

There was not even the slightest hesitation as Peter answered, "Always."

"Change takes time, as does acceptance. And I already told you that anything worth having probably won't be easy to obtain."

"True." Again, the same ironic laughter. Then Peter said, "It helps to realize how lucky we all are. Having Edmund here again… I can handle whatever problems we will face. _We_ can handle them. Together, as a family."

Edmund smiled to himself, Peter's words echoing in his mind.

As a family.

* * *

"What is going on?" Edmund demanded, feeling both a little annoyed and a little intrigued as his siblings excitedly dragged him towards the courtyard. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Because then it wouldn't be a surprise!" Lucy admonished, grinning from ear to ear as she danced around him. She was practically glowing, and Susan's expression reflected a softer, gentler version of Lucy's enthusiasm. Even Peter was smiling, struggling to keep back his laughter at Edmund's perplexed expression.

"It's still raining," Edmund protested as he was unceremoniously shoved outside. "I'll get wet." But his words fell on deaf ears, and he stumbled into the open, the light rain falling softly against his face. The courtyard seemed to be packed with Animals and Creatures, and Edmund could not quite fathom why so many of his subjects would be standing about in the rain, as though they were waiting for him.

And then something small and blonde had thrown itself against him, clutching him tightly around the middle and knocking all the wind from his body. Two bright blue eyes looked up at him, lips parting into an exuberant smile from which came a shriek of delight.

"Edmund!"

The young king's mouth fell open. "Nasada?"

He could barely breathe, she was hugging him so tightly. Her usual shyness around strangers seemed to have completely evaporated despite the large number of Narnians who had gathered to witness the reunion. Instead, words were pouring from her, filling the space all around.

"Edmund! You're okay! And look, you're dressed all funny! Is that silk? That's a lot of silk! You look different from. Oh, it is so good to see you! A Golden Eagle came to get us, brought an invitation from King Peter. And Mother and Father said I could come see you, even though it was a really long journey and I'd never left the Village before! And we travelled a really long way. It was so much fun. And isn't Cair Paravel spectacular? Oh, are these your sisters?"

As Nasada paused to catch her breath, Edmund looked over her head to see Sera and Dar standing a short distance from him. They looked exactly like he remembered, and their expression were filled with joy and pride.

At Edmund's side, Peter whispered, "I thought you might want to celebrate your Coronation with them. There wasn't time to bring them to the actual ceremony, but still… Better late than never, right?"

Edmund was still speechless, unable to form the right words.

So, as expected, it was Susan who stepped forward with a gracious smile. "Dar, Sera, Nasada. Welcome to Cair Paravel. I am Susan, and this is my sister Lucy. I believe you have already met Peter. Would you like to come inside, out of the rain?" Raising her voice, she added, "Come, everyone. There are refreshments in the banquet hall. Please, join us."

And then everything seemed to dissolve into chaos. The Narnians rushed forward, streaming into the Cair, and Sera was suddenly hugging Edmund fiercely while Lucy introduced herself politely to an awestruck Nasada and Dar watched with a bemused expression. Sera had tears pooling in her eyes, and Nasada was then eagerly bounding on the balls of her feet while Susan tried in vain to keep order, and Peter burst into laughter at the scene before him.

Through the frenzy of activity, the shouts of welcome, and the hazy mist of rain, Edmund turned to Peter and murmured, "Thank you. For… this. For all of it."

Peter inclined his head as he replied in a whisper, "Always."


End file.
